The Last of the Nishizumis
by CrabbyCakes
Summary: With Maho gone, Miho must figure out to carry on the legacy of the Nishizumi style by herself.
1. Chapter 1

Miho Nishizumi stared out the window of the plane as it taxied to the gate, yawning slightly and squirming. She squinted. It was a beautiful day, but the tarmac was clearly not designed to reduce glare.

Shining white airliners, sporting more markings than she could keep track of, bustled about between the gate and the taxiway, coming and going as they always did. So this was the airport that served Niedersächsische Universität, Europe's leading school of tank sports. This was where Maho had landed some months prior, preparing for the start of her university education. One of the greatest commanders Sensha-dō had ever seen was now in Germany's hands.

The plane halted at last and the door slid open, then the jet bridge met it and created a safe pathway for the passengers to disembark. Miho stood up to retrieve her bag from the overhead compartment, bumping into a few people as she did so.

"Sorry, sorry," she murmured, focused more on the task at hand. Shiho Nishizumi had sent her overseas to help Maho with the process of moving in. Maho already had a good understanding of the area; the thing she lacked was a place she could call home. Seeing as Miho had managed to make the Ooarai Girls' Academy her home, Shiho had reasoned that she would be able to help Maho find and settle into a place of her own.

Miho was a third-year at Ooarai now, renowned already as the creator of a great success story in the previous year's Sensha-dō tournament. Her name was all over now-old headlines and Yukari Akiyama was all over her every hour of every day. The Nishizumi family was reunited at last, even if Miho would never return to Kuromorimine. She was already working on her application for Niedersächsische Universität, hoping to join her sister once more in the highest levels of tank sports. All in all, Miho Nishizumi's life was at an all-time high.

The tidal wave of passengers in the aisle nearly prevented Miho from getting out of her seat, but she battled her way into the line. She didn't even have to move—the sheer force of a hundred bodies surging forward towards the exit in their rush-hour frenzy was enough to sweep her along. Before she knew it she was already through customs and searching for any familiar signage that might point her to the baggage claim.

"Excuse me," she said to the first airport staff member she saw, "which way's the baggage claim?"

The reply was in German, entirely unintelligible to Miho's ears, but based on the hand signals the man was giving her, she could find a sign that had the words "Baggage Claim" written on it in bold English. She was just able to recognize the English words from the signs she had seen at the Tokyo Narita airport. There was also a little suitcase icon next to the lettering, which told her everything she needed to know.

_"__Danke schön,"_ Miho said, pulling out what little German she knew and bowing slightly before remembering that German culture did not in any way resemble what she was used to in Japan. She blushed and hurried off to the baggage claim.

* * *

"Welcome to Niedersächsische Universität," a female announcer voice proclaimed over the loudspeakers, with as little emotion as synthesized speech could convey. "The time is 15:27. Please reset your watches if necessary." Then it repeated this message in a variety of other languages.

Miho approached the frosted-glass sliding automatic doors over which there hung a sign announcing the baggage claim. The little red light on the sensor started blinking rapidly and the doors slowly slid open before her.

Eight enormous baggage carousels were spread evenly around the room, and each was obscured by the passengers huddled around, beady eyes ogling every piece of baggage that came around. Miho searched the arrival boards for the words "Kumamoto City," finding them on the board suspended over Carousel B. As the first few bags came up the conveyor belt and slid onto the moving metal panels, she felt a tap on her shoulder and heard someone say, "Hi, Miho."

She jumped and spun around to see who it was. To her surprise, it was not one person but two—Maho Nishizumi and a familiar face, a bespectacled girl a head shorter than Miho with her long brown hair tied up in a ponytail.

"Kaede-san?" Miho gasped. "What are you doing here?"

It had been ten years since the Nishizumi sisters had seen Kaede last. She was a year older than Maho and had gone to their school in Kumamoto City when Miho was in second grade and Maho in third. They hadn't known her for very long when her family moved away, and even then just as someone from around town whom they happened to know. Miho had never thought she'd see Kaede again, but here she was.

"That's basically what I said when Maho-san showed up a few weeks ago," Kaede quipped. "But anyway, it's great to see you! Maho-san was telling me about all that's happened since we saw each other last. Which carousel are you picking your bag up from?"

Miho started, realizing that she had forgotten to grab her suitcase. Red-faced, she rushed back to the carousel just as her large black bag disappeared around the other side. Maho and Kaede were hot on her heels.

"Oh, bad luck!" Kaede exclaimed. "We'll catch it on the next cycle."

And indeed, the suitcase came back around, and Miho breathed a little sigh of relief as she yanked it off the carousel and set it down. She pulled up the handle and wheeled it outside to the parking garage, getting in the elevator with Maho and Kaede.

None of them said a word all the way up to the fourth level. They only got talking again as Kaede loaded Miho's bag into the back of her little silver Volkswagen Beetle.

"So Maho-san was telling me about how your mother sent you over here to help her pick an apartment," Kaede said, her voice echoing off the concrete of the garage. "Why'd she really send you?"

"Uhh..." Miho searched for an answer. "I don't know."

"Let me answer for you," Kaede said. "She wanted to get you out of the house for a little bit before school starts. It's what I'd do if I were her. But anyway—"

"Slow down, Kaede-san," Maho chided. "I think you're scaring her. Come on, get in the car. We don't have all day."

As they drove down the web of ramps to get out of the parking garage, Kaede broke the silence that had once again settled over the trio. "So, Miho-san, Maho-san was looking in a particular neighborhood with a lot of places for rent and we wondered whether you might shed some light on which of the options she should take."

"Cat's out of the bag now, isn't it?" murmured Maho. She sat stock still in the passenger seat, squinting as the car exited and sunlight bathed her face.

"Well, she hasn't even seen the options!" Kaede protested. "Also, why is it even a secret?"

"You don't have to be so forthcoming, you know," Maho said with a smile.

Miho listened without saying a word. Maho and Kaede seemed quite close even after only a short period of having rekindled their friendship. Erika would be jealous, wouldn't she? Miho chuckled to herself at the thought.

After a while spent driving through the streets of Niedersächsische and looking at curious passers-by, the car pulled up in front of a building. Kaede shut off the ignition, pulled out the key with a flourish, and turned around to look at Miho. "This was the first option on our route. We were wondering if you'd like to take a look at it, tell us what you think."

The girls got out of the car and headed towards the door. Miho struggled to translate the German on the sign outside. "B-Bauer Apartments? Am I reading that right?"

Maho, stoic as ever, nodded, and they went inside the dimly lit lobby. In spite of the effective blindness that resulted from going inside after being out in the sun, Miho noticed that Kaede had one eye open, the other tightly shut. "Kaede-san? Is everything all right?"

"Old military trick," Kaede replied. "Shut one eye outside, switch inside so that you always have one eye acclimated to the lighting. Works like a charm."

"Huh. I've never heard of that before." Kaede was really something else.

"Anyway," the older girl chirped, "there's one open in this building. Let's go up. Maho-san, you come too. It's your housing we're talking about."

They ascended the stairs, which were far too steep. Not that they cared, since the Nishizumi sisters were accustomed to living on a ship and Kaede had taken up climbing when she was younger. When they reached the top, they took a left and entered an open apartment door.

The place was very simple in its tastes, with a very plain set of furniture that probably didn't cost its original buyer that much money. A desk sat in a corner with a lamp casting a warm glow over the vicinity. Sunlight streamed in through windows overlooking a central courtyard.

It would suit Maho perfectly, Miho realized. Simple, not overdone, very geometric to fit the Nishizumi style, but with the flexibility that everyone was always telling Miho about as a necessity for college. Plus it was close to the university and the surrounding area looked like everything was easily within reach.

She turned around to look at Maho, who was staring impassively at the wall. "Nee-san," she said, catching her older sister's attention, "I don't think we need to look any farther than this."

For the first time in a long time that Miho could remember, Maho Nishizumi looked genuinely surprised. "So that's it, then? We'll take this one?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I'll go get the landlord," Kaede said. "In case you were wondering, Miho-san, I live a couple floors up in this building. The landlord's awesome. Game night every Friday."

Miho smiled. "Go for it."

"Don't you mean 'Panzer vor'?" Kaede laughed, causing Miho's face to flush bright red as she started back down the stairs.

* * *

The girls had just finished making the trips back and forth between the hotel where Maho had been staying and the apartment, dropping off her things, when the apartment floor started vibrating.

"What's that?" Miho gasped, surprised.

"One of the garages is literally right under our feet," Kaede answered without missing a beat. "That should be Reinhard getting home right about now." When Miho and Maho looked at her in confusion, she quickly added, "He's my neighbor."

The sound of the garage door opening stopped and the faint sound of a car door punctuated the silence that momentarily settled over the room.

"There is one other person to keep in mind," Kaede announced. "Her name's Heidi, or so the landlord tells me, and she's moving in today as well."

"What do you mean?" Maho asked.

Kaede grinned. "You know how there's a second bed in here?"

Maho's eyes, for her face remained unchanged, went through a whole range of expressions, and after a few seconds of this, she sighed. "All right. I'll move my things over."

"Now that that's settled," Miho said, "I'm getting hungry. Anyone up for some dinner somewhere?"

Kaede raised a hand. "Driving Maho around all day makes one a little bit hungry, you know. I've got a place in mind."

* * *

Kaede sat across from the Nishizumi sisters in a booth in a cafe right in the heart of the Niedersächsische Universität campus. "Full disclosure time," she said, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. "I want to know everything that's happened in your lives since we last met."

"Well," Miho replied, "I'm assuming you want to hear about Sensha-dō. That's a long story, and I'm not sure if I should share it..."

"No detail is too small!" Kaede cried. "Pray continue."

Miho squeezed her shoulders together, looked at Maho, and told Kaede the story of how she had saved the lives of Koume Akaboshi and her crew in the finals of the 62nd Annual Sensha-dō Tournament at the cost of the match and Kuromorimine's shot at ten consecutive titles, how she had been all but disowned by her family as a result and forced to transfer to the Ooarai Girls' Academy, and how she had raised their Sensha-dō team from the dust into a surprise victory against not only the Nishizumi style but also the Shimada style.

As Miho told her story, Kaede was furiously scribbling notes, stopping only to look up and reestablish eye contact. When Miho mentioned that Ooarai had defeated the All-Stars University team, however, Kaede suddenly stopped.

"Y-you actually beat them?" she asked, taking off her glasses. "With your little team?"

"We had help," Miho admitted. Gesturing to Maho, she added, "Lots of help."

Maho smiled. "They called in every high school that ever made a name for itself within Sensha-dō. It was a conglomeration of them, us, St. Gloriana, Chi-Ha-Tan, Pravda, and Jatkosota. I'm surprised you never heard of that match."

"Now that you mention it, I seem to remember hearing something about it," Kaede said. "I heard about the Winter Continuous Track Cup. One of my classmates followed that one closely."

Miho cleared her throat. "So now that we're all up to speed, don't you think we should actually get some food?"

"There is that," Kaede conceded, putting her glasses back on and pushing them up her nose. She stood up and headed towards the counter, with Miho and Maho following suit behind her.

When they had returned to their booth with a tray of food, the glasses came off again. "It occurs to me," Kaede intoned with mock imperiousness, "that I have extracted as much information as I can from you while offering virtually nothing about myself. So what do you say it's your turn? Maho-san, I haven't even filled you in on everything yet, so feel free to listen. Here goes.

"So when I was in the eleventh grade—Maho-san, you were a first-year—I got the opportunity to join my school's Panzerfahren team. I snapped it up eagerly because of scholarships related to it—full rides here if your team wins the tournament. Well, my school swept Europe. Craziest experience I've ever had, but my parents and their wallet have been kissing my feet for a year now."

Miho and Maho chuckled at this.

Kaede went on. "Applying here was easy enough. I mean, just look at me. Am I a nerdy Asian girl or what? Anyway, I'm part of the Niedersächsische Panzerfahren team now, and let me tell you, we're killers in the field." She looked at Maho. "No pressure."

Maho chuckled. "I'm used to a little pressure. It's how we Nishizumis get our motivation."

"Not to interrupt," Miho cut in, "but is anyone besides me actually hungry?"

"Ah—I almost forgot—again!" Kaede laughed as she tore into the food with reckless abandon. Maho and Miho did the same, though much more calculated and precise in their consumption of calories.

* * *

Back at the apartment, Maho closed the door and suddenly perceived a figure sitting on the couch. She almost jumped out of her skin, but she was a Nishizumi. She knew better than to lose her cool. Drawing in a breath, she asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm your roommate Heidi," a distinctly American voice answered her. "Landlord let me in." There was a sound like gum being chewed as she spoke.

Shrugging off Heidi's display of American manners, Maho hung her Kuromorimine Sensha-dō jacket up on the coat rack and took a seat on the couch with her roommate. Heidi wordlessly grabbed the TV remote and turned on some crappy channel or other and the two sat in silence in their new apartment on the nice side of town.

* * *

Miho sat in the car with Kaede the next morning on the way back to the airport, rubbing her eyes. It had been an early wakeup and she was still groggy.

"Look sharp!" Kaede said as she pulled up to the dropoff zone. "You can sleep on the plane."

_Now I get how Mako-san feels,_ thought Miho. She yawned and stretched. "Did Onee-san wake up at all before you came to get me?"

"No, she's as asleep as you wish you were," Kaede replied. "Call her when you get home."

"I will. By the way, why did I have to come over here? Couldn't she have just gone with your advice?"

"Eh, her mother didn't know I'd be here, and besides, I don't mind getting a second opinion."

"Well, then, I'm glad I could be of some help. Send my love to Onee-san."

"I will. Now hurry, you don't want to miss your flight."

"But it doesn't leave for two hours!"

Kaede laughed. "Trust me, check-in and security are nuts here. Go on. Don't take chances with this airport."

"I like taking chances," Miho replied with a smile. "What do you think Ooarai was?"

"I'll give you that. But not here. Again, call your sister when you get home." Kaede's voice turned to mock menace. "Now go before I drive off with you."

Miho chuckled, got out of the car, and grabbed her bag, then turned back to Kaede. "Bye, Kaede-san. Till we meet again!"

Kaede waved, then pressed the gas and pulled away as Miho ran through the doors to check in for her flight.


	2. Chapter 2

A small helicopter touched down on the deck of the Ooarai school ship and its engine shut off. Two people got out—a nondescript young man wearing a headset from the pilot's seat, and Shiho Nishizumi from the passenger seat.

Near the helipad, two girls in the white serafuku and green skirt of the Ooarai uniform watched the helicopter's occupants disembark, ears ringing from the din of the rotor. As soon as Shiho appeared, one began to dart forward, only to have her sleeve grabbed by the other.

"Not so fast, Yukari-san!" the second of these chided with wavering sternness in her voice. "Sodoko-san left me in charge of the Public Morals Committee to rein in behavior like this! I'll write you a citation if you insist on blitzing our guests like this!"

"But don't you know who that is, Gomoyo-san?" Yukari protested. "That's the head of the Nishizumi family, Nishizumi-dono's mother! She's one of the greatest Sensha-dō legends who ever lived! The mistress of the Nishizumi style! One of the greatest tank commanders who ever lived—"

"I get it, Yukari-san," Gomoyo said, cutting her off with more annoyance now than sternness in her voice. "She's one of your idols. She's also one of our guests, and mark my words, you _will_ treat her as such!"

Yukari slouched in disappointment, then headed back to Gomoyo's side with a sigh. As Shiho marched past, the Anglerfish Team loader stood at attention, only to be snapped out of it by a glare from Gomoyo and a swift kick to the side of her ankle.

Yukari winced, grateful that Shiho hadn't seemed to notice it. She was trembling with a mixture of excitement and fear standing in the presence of the woman who gave life to Miho Nishizumi, her precious commander and mentor. She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it, but noticed that Shiho had turned to face her. Suddenly going weak and feeling her cheeks on fire, she scrambled to think of something to say.

"W-welcome to Ooarai, Nishizumi-sama!" she stuttered, tripping over her own words. "My name is Yukari Akiyama and I am Miho-dono's loader! My fellow students and I will do our best to make you feel right at home with our school!"

When she had finished, she caught her breath and straightened out her vision, looking at Shiho. To her relief, there was no adverse reaction. At the same time, her heart sank a little at the Nishizumi family head's apparent lack of interest.

Her knees nearly gave out when, out of the entire stony face, there was a single movement. An eyebrow arched upwards, puzzled, then the eyes set and the corners of the mouth turned up in a smile.

"Well, thank you, Yukari-san," an unusually sweet voice said from behind the mostly stony mask. "This is my first time actually visiting Ooarai. I'll need all the help I can get navigating around here."

At this point, Gomoyo took over. She did not feel the same awe of Shiho Nishizumi that had seized Yukari, but she knew what it meant to show respect. "This way, please," she said with a bow. "Miho-san is having lunch at the moment. I'll have someone notify her of your arrival."

"She doesn't know I'm here," Shiho said as they started towards the nearest bus stop. "This will be a bit of a surprise."

"Oh, okay," Gomoyo responded. She smiled. "Well, as Yukari-san said, welcome to the Ooarai Girls' Academy."

* * *

Miho was munching away on a burger—bless whoever had gotten the idea to set up that stand in the cafeteria! It was so remarkably convenient!—when Karina Sakaguchi came skipping into the room. She skidded to a halt in front of Miho, putting her arms out for balance.

"Miho-san!" Rabbit Team's driver exclaimed. "Your mother's here!"

Miho nearly spat out a French fry. "Shiho Nishizumi? She's here?"

"In the flesh!" Karina replied. "Gomoyo-san sent me to tell you she's here and wants to speak with you!"

Miho was up in a flash and out the door. She met Karina in the hall and stopped abruptly. Shiho stood before her, cold and rigid as usual.

"Oka-san," she greeted her mother. "What brings you here?"

"A word in private, Miho," Shiho said. "You two"—she turned to Gomoyo and Yukari—"would you please give us a moment?"

"Certainly, Nishizumi-sama," Yukari said. Gomoyo bowed and escorted her out of the area.

"And who is this?" Shiho inquired, looking intently at Karina.

"This is Karina-san, the driver of our M3 Lee," Miho said. "If you would like, I can introduce you to the team at practice this afternoon."

"I'd like that," Shiho replied after a moment's deliberation. "I've been making an effort to get out and connect with the teams more lately. I hear it makes the teams much stronger."

Karina jumped into the conversation. "I'm sure they'll all be delighted to meet you! Now if you'll excuse me, I have some stuff to get too." She skipped away, humming something to herself.

When she had gone, Shiho and Miho were truly alone. Shiho gestured down the hall where Karina had gone. "She seems like quite the energetic type."

"Mm-hmm. Yes, she is," Miho affirmed. "A little bit much to handle at times, and a severe depression case if her favorite anime takes a sad turn, but one of those people who you just have to love even if you hate her."

"She makes herself a child figure to everyone, then?"

"You could say that."

"You don't actually hate her, though, right?"

"Of course not! I don't see what could make someone hate Karina-chan! So what actually brought you here?"

"In light of the astounding success of the Ooarai Girls' Academy in last year's Sensha-dō tournament finals and the exhibition match against the All-Stars University Team, the Japanese Sensha-dō Federation has chosen your school to receive the Sensha-dō Meteor award in addition to your championship title. I'll be presenting the award to your school's team at an assembly tonight."

Miho looked stunned. "And here I was, just trying to keep the school open!"

"Well, they say hard work pays off. It certainly did for Kuromorimine, nine years in a row." There was a hint of bitterness, and the air soured for a moment, but Shiho shook her head with a blushing smile. "Sorry. Touchy subject, I know. Anyway, you and your team should be proud. This award hasn't been given in twenty years, since Jatkosota High School won it in their first attempt at the tournament."

"Well, thank you, Oka-san," Miho said. "They'll love it, I'm sure."

* * *

Azusa Sawa was standing in the Sensha-dō garage atop the M3 Lee, surveying the crew's preparations for practice, when Miho walked in with Shiho behind her.

"…and that's my successor Azusa-san," Miho was saying as she gestured toward the second-year commander. "An excellent student and very adept on the battlefield, if I may say so myself."

Azusa's face flushed. She hadn't thought of herself as Miho's successor before, just as someone who knew how to use the peculiar layout of her tank to her advantage. She stood up straight and gave a little wave, her brain working furiously to decide whether that was appropriate for Shiho Nishizumi.

From below, Saori's voice brought her back to her senses. "Azusa-chan? Aya-chan's already asked you a question three times. Would you mind answering her?"

"Sorry." Azusa shook her head. "What was the question again?"

"Is Ayumi-san on fueling duty today, or am I? I can't remember." Aya's voice was small from so far beneath Azusa's ears.

"It's her turn today," Azusa replied, already starting to tune out the chatter near the garage door.

She was jolted back to reality by her driver's sudden and noisy reappearance. The garage door rattled as Karina ran headlong into it, distracted for a moment from her path by Aya's salutary wave at exactly the wrong time.

Karina picked herself up off the ground and dusted herself off, then continued to the tank. She hopped in through the side hatch and took her seat at the controls.

"Karina-chan!" Saori admonished. "Practice doesn't start for another ten minutes!"

"Oh, it doesn't?" Karina had mellowed already; that fall must have done some good. She climbed back out and stood beside the tank waiting for Miho's directive to begin.

Meanwhile, across the garage, Miho was leading Shiho around to see the Ooarai tanks up close. They had reached Mallard Team by now.

"You remember Gomoyo-san from earlier," Miho said. "She's the commander of the Char B1. I'd also like you to meet Pazomi-san, Sadoka-san, and Mazoe-san, three of the other crew members."

The Public Morals Committee girls bowed, and Shiho did likewise. Then they turned back to their respective tasks, and Miho and Shiho continued on to Anteater Team.

"This is Momoga-san," Miho said, "and this is Nekonya-san. They're the two remaining original members of this crew—Oka-san, are you listening?"

Shiho refocused on the Anteater Team girls and bowed. "Miho-chan, I'd like to see these crews in action. Up close for once."

"I can arrange that," Miho said. "Should I start practice early today?"

"Why not?"

Miho clapped her hands once. The sound echoed through the garage and got everyone's attention. "Slight deviation from the usual schedule today," she announced. "We will be starting five minutes earlier than planned, so that's in two minutes. Get your engines started and get in. Oka-san, I think our auto club has a seat available. They'll be glad to have you with them."

"Which one are they again?" Shiho inquired, scanning the row of tanks.

"The Tiger (P). Just a couple tanks down the line," Miho said, pointing Shiho to the armored monster being tended to by an entire crew of qualified mechanics.

"Thank you." Shiho headed over to the Tiger (P) and introduced herself before all of the Ooarai girls climbed into their tanks to begin.

* * *

From atop a ridge, Leopon Team tracked Rabbit Team's progress as they approached the bridge, serving as a source of covering fire. Shiho watched through binoculars as the M3 Lee stopped and Azusa poked her head out of the side hatch.

A flash of motion caught her eye. It was Hippo Team, part of the opposing force in this practice round, taking up a position near the bridge on the other side from which they could easily knock them out. Shiho's muscles tensed instinctively, though she did her best to hide the thrill it gave her.

Azusa had seen the movement too. Perhaps Erwin and Oryou had been a little too hasty in their actions. It wasn't anything unusual—for as good of a team as they were, the Ooarai girls were not completely free of a few errors in practice.

Azusa shouted something to her crew and the tank turned to face Hippo Team's new hiding place. She shut the hatch as the main gun in the hull sponson adjusted to find Hippo Team in its sights.

Three guns opened up at once on the StuG III—the two cannons of the Lee and the machine gun in the cupola. The 75-millimeter shell struck the ground immediately in front of it, kicking up a shower of earth. Bullets clanged off the armor and a 37-millimeter shell glanced off the top of the casemate.

At this point the Lee turned abruptly and moved to a new position, turning back to face Hippo Team a second time. As they moved, though, the StuG began to back up and rotate slightly.

Clearly Aya and Ayumi were a little rusty today. At least Karina seemed to be on the ball. Once more, the guns of the M3 took aim at the StuG.

Shiho Nishizumi watched as the powerful 75-millimeter main gun of the StuG finally spoke, and a shell glanced off the awkwardly angled frontal armor of the Lee. Rabbit Team answered with a shell of their own. This time their main gun found its mark, and Hippo Team's white flag popped up.

"Nishizumi-san?" Nakajima said, jolting Shiho out of her trance from watching the duel at the bridge unfold. "All opposition tanks have been eliminated. We won."

"Well, good work, girls," Shiho said, thoroughly intrigued by the whole experience of watching Ooarai practice. "I'll see you later tonight. That Lee crew is promising."

"Miho-san was talking up Azusa-san, wasn't she?" one of the other Leopon Team girls whose name Shiho couldn't remember droned. "She and her friend Saori-san seem really attached to Rabbit Team lately."

"Rabbit Team? Is that what they're called?"

"Yep. Quirky little animal names for all the tanks here."

"Huh. I've never heard of that system for keeping tanks straight before."

"Well, we pride ourselves on being a little unorthodox, with the exception of Mallard Team—that's the Public Morals Committee to you. Take us, for example. Who wears coveralls around all day?"

Shiho chuckled, a rarity for her. She wasn't sure exactly how Miho had landed with this crowd at her new school, but they were certainly an interesting bunch. Perhaps this was part of how Ooarai had snatched the title from all the powerhouse schools the previous year. If it was, Shiho thought, she wouldn't mind adopting some of it.

* * *

A few hours later, the Ooarai girls were gathered in the auditorium. Shiho Nishizumi stood on the stage with a microphone, addressing them. Beside her was a table on which a large object sat, a dark red cloth draped over it.

"And it is with great honor, on behalf of the Japanese Sensha-dō Federation, that I present the Ooarai Girls' Academy with the Sensha-dō Meteor Award for Excellence in a First Tournament. Congratulations, girls. You've stunned us all." Shiho pulled the cloth away to reveal a large golden trophy in the form of a Panzer IV Ausf. H with a comet-like trail behind it, positioned to look as if it was accelerating into the sky. On its large wooden base, the words OOARAI GIRLS' ACADEMY were engraved on a brass plaque.

They all fell silent at the sight of the trophy. All except Karina, who leaned over to Aya and whispered, "It's so pretty, isn't it?"

"Shh!" Azusa admonished, trying to keep the disturbance down as much as possible.

"Sorry," Karina mumbled as a few heads turned to see what the mini-commotion was.

Shiho cleared her throat. "And now I would like to invite Miho Nishizumi and Azusa Sawa up here, if you would be so kind, to receive the award on behalf of Ooarai."

Azusa hustled up to the stage, blushing a little at the attention, while Miho ascended the stairs on the other side. They stood on either side of the table with the award, while Shiho led everyone in a round of applause.

Miho and Azusa looked at each other, a tad embarrassed by their turn in the spotlight. But they wore the proud smiles of victorious commanders while Taiga Ou's news camera rolled at the foot of the stage.

* * *

The girls of Rabbit Team joined Saori at the Leclerc Tank Café for coffee, which they needed after a long day and the excitement of the award ceremony. All of them except Azusa, that is. Azusa had gone to join Miho in her dorm for a private meeting with Shiho Nishizumi.

Saori pressed on the turret of the little tank model in the middle of the table, and the explosion sound effect brought a waitress scurrying over. "Good evening, girls. What can I get you tonight?"

Saori glanced around the table, and saw five pairs of eyes looking expectantly back at her. She sighed. "Decaf lattes all around, if you please. Anyone want anything else?"

Once more the eyes all looked at her, hungrily this time. Saori sighed again and answered for all of them. "Coffee cake all around, _s'il vous plaît. _Thanks."

As the waitress stepped away to get their order, Karina looked curiously at Saori. "Why were you speaking French, Takebe-sama?"

"French is the language of love, Karina-chan," Saori replied, "and I might as well keep my French sharp for any boys I might meet. On top of that, this is the Leclerc Tank Café, and the Leclerc is French."

"How come I've never heard of it?" Yuuki asked, puzzled.

"It's a main battle tank, and the only main battle tank that's Sensha-dō legal is the Centurion. But that costs a lot of money. Anyway, it looks like the ice cream's on its way—Karina-chan?"

Karina's eyes had glazed over and she was sitting there stupidly, looking at Saori in awe of her knowledge.

Breaking her usual silence, Saki muttered something from across the table. "It's basic stuff."

It was her seldom-heard voice, all right, but the imperceptible movement of her lips made it next to impossible to be sure that she had spoken at all.

* * *

"For as formal a meeting as this was supposed to be," Azusa observed with her mouth full, "the introduction of Chinese food to this setting completely threw that off."

"Yeah, I know," Miho said, between bites of Hunan chicken. "It was convenient."

"Though it is pretty good," Azusa said to herself, choosing to ignore the fact that Miho's dorm would smell awful the next morning. She swallowed. "What is this about me being your successor?" she asked. "That came from left field."

"Well," Miho began, pausing to swallow her food, "I've had a whole year to watch you in action. In that time I've concluded that you and your crew are essential to the integrity of this team."

"But we always get taken out!" Azusa said, before Shiho put up her hand to stop her.

"I watched footage of your matches. There's no denying that while you were a little rough around the edges at first, you've definitely grown into a force to be reckoned with. Take, for instance, your remarkable performance against the All-Stars University team."

"What about it?"

"Let me finish. You found that you had a niche in that battle. Taking on light tanks, not just the heavy ones. You were the ones who made life just a little bit easier for everyone else on your team, the deliverers of that Ferris wheel to break up the siege. You were the unsung heroes. Had you not done your part, there is little doubt in my mind that the Shimada style would have prevailed that day.

"Miho-san and I have discussed this at length and we concluded that it was your sheer determination that brought the spirit and flair to your crew that made you secretly indispensable. And that is why we believe you would be perfect to succeed Miho-san as commander of the Ooarai Girls' Academy Sensha-dō team."

For the first time in a long time Azusa just stared at her, feeling dumber than Yuuki at not recognizing what her crew had been able to do.

Her crew. Aya, Yuuki, Saki, Karina, and Ayumi. _They_ were the ones who had won Rabbit Team in its little unwieldy M3 Lee a place in the history books. They were the ones who had done it all, planned it all, done the driving, the aiming, the loading, the shooting, _everything _while Azusa sat in the turret and directed traffic. Her face flushed red. "I really don't know if I'm the right person for the—"

"Trust me, Azusa-san," Shiho said with a warm smile, "you're the one we want. You're the one _they_ want. I have great faith in your future as team commander."

Azusa couldn't believe her ears. Shiho Nishizumi, one of the greatest tankers known to man, had faith in her? Her, a little high schooler who still ingratiated herself to someone like Saori Takebe?

"This means that if you do well next year, you might have a chance at getting your name in the Sensha-dō Hall of Fame," Shiho went on. "It would be the first time in twenty years that someone from outside the Nishizumi or Shimada schools made it in."

Azusa thought about it. "But doesn't being under Miho-san make me part of the Nishizumi style?"

"Well, not exactly," Miho replied. "I just do what I need to do to exploit the other team's weaknesses. The Nishizumi style involves heavy armor to overwhelm even their strengths. You remember from the finals, right?"

"And there was another example of your fine leadership," Shiho said, jumping back in. "Exploiting the weaknesses of heavy self-propelled guns. You showed that you fight as Miho-san would fight. They'd have no problem adjusting to your command."

"Well, I'm flattered," said Azusa, "but I only have a year's worth of experience."

"So did I," Miho responded simply.

The two Nishizumi greats looked at each other, then back at Azusa with smiles on their faces. Shiho finally spoke. "Welcome to the big time."

It was from this point on that Azusa Sawa knew that she was in.


	3. Chapter 3

In her apartment at Niedersächsische Universität, Maho Nishizumi slept soundly in bed. Heidi had gone out for a night of partying.

_Typical American,_ Maho had mused. The number of Saturdays that Heidi woke up with a hangover were starting to exceed the number of Saturdays that she didn't. At least she was out of Maho's way when she needed to get work done.

Panzerfahren, the European version of Sensha-dō, was turning out to be a lot harder than Maho had expected. Europe had a different set of standards and this meant that never-built tanks from the World War II drawing board were used quite frequently—in the case of Niedersächsische, they had a ton of E-series tanks and only one thing not from that proposed line, the Nishizumi family Tiger I. Maho was getting used to getting knocked out in battle in the face of waves of Comets, Fireflies, and other things that many Japanese high schools couldn't always afford.

Her other studies were going quite well. She always made sure that she finished her homework early on Friday nights so that she could attend the opera across campus. Only a few other people from the team were ever in attendance, but they were reliable.

People, because it wasn't exclusively female in Europe. Her team was mostly made up of women, but there were also a few men in command of tanks. Whatever their gender, they were all indispensable in battle and Maho knew it well.

Life at the moment was good for her. She couldn't wait for Miho to go to university so that she could have the wholly liberating experience.

With these things on her mind, she slept like a baby. So deep was her sleep that she did not hear the sound of a car being started in the garage below her room, but lacking the hum of the garage door to accompany it...

* * *

Miho awoke with a start. She reached for her alarm clock, but found to her surprise that it hadn't gone off yet.

"What the hell?" she muttered.

Then the noise that had awakened her reached her ears again—a heavy pounding on her door followed by Saori's frantic yelling. "Miporin! Miporin!" She sounded distressed.

Miho's senses sharpened and she got up, hurrying to the door and opening it.

"Good morning, Saori-san," she said with a bow. "What brings you here so early this morning?"

Saori swallowed hard. "It-it's Maho-san..."

"What do you mean, Saori-san?" Miho asked. "Please, come on in. You look like you need some water."

Saori followed Miho into her dorm, then started stuttering out Maho's name again. Miho was thoroughly confused by now, wondering what news about Maho could render her nearly unable to speak.

"What is it?" she asked. "Do you need to sit down?"

Saori gulped. "I think you're the one who needs to be sitting down."

"Oh, no need. Whatever it is, I can take it. Anyway, you mentioned Maho-san. What about her?"

"She's—she's—"

"She's what? Visiting? She called? She's hurt? What?"

Saori took a deep breath and wiped a tear from her eyes. "She's dead, Miporin," she croaked. "She's dead."

Miho took a step back. A smile cracked across her lips. "No, seriously," she said with an apprehensive laugh, "what actually brings you here? I'm not stupid, you know. I can see pranks coming from—"

"This is not a prank, Miporin. She's actually dead. They found her in her apartment this morning. I just got the news."

Miho swallowed a lump in her throat. Her sister, the girl she had grown up with and recently reconciled with and planned to see again soon, the excellent tank commander with a passion for excellence and who treated her tank like her own child, was dead. Gone. Never coming back, never going to give Miho her gentle smile again. "What happened?"

Saori got out her phone and flipped through the news. "A neighbor tried to kill himself by idling his car in the garage. He survived because someone found him. The fumes leaked into her apartment and killed her in her sleep." Saori was struggling to hold her composure.

"What about her roommate? Any news on her?"

"Nothing. Maho-san was the only reported fatality."

Miho sat on the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands. "Give me a moment," she said. Saori nodded and stepped out.

So this wasn't a dream. This was really happening. After all these years of struggle but before she could do anything with her life, Maho Nishizumi was dead. And now Miho was on her own. No sister to guide her, support her, and set an example. She was used to it, but not in the monkey's-paw fashion of this.

Someone had once told her that the best way to deal with emotions was to just let them flow, to not bottle them up. But she discovered quickly that she was incapable of doing that. She was a Nishizumi, and Nishizumis never let their emotions get the better of them. They always finished the job, whatever that was.

Miho wanted so badly to cry, but there was no sob to stifle. She wanted to hit something, but her arms were useless. Her body simply wouldn't let her uncork the tide of grief that had swept her mind.

After a while, she heard Saori's footsteps retreating. She opened her mouth to call out to her friend, but she decided against it. Saori, helpful and understanding though she always was, could not know the pain Miho felt.

Seizing the television remote, she turned on the news. To her surprise, and to add to the agony of the pit in her stomach, the headline was about Maho's death.

"Heartbreaking news from Niedersächsische Universität in Germany," the anchor was saying. Like she even knew what that meant. "The heiress to the legendary Nishizumi family in Sensha-dō has died. Reports indicate that her death was the result of a neighbor's attempted suicide through idling his car in the garage. It is unclear at this time what exactly happened, but we will keep you updated as we hear more on this story."

Miho switched the TV off. She ran her shaking fingers through her hair. She and Kaede had selected that apartment.

Wait...Kaede! What about Kaede? Was she all right? She grabbed her phone and sent Kaede a text: _r u ok?_

The response came back quickly: _Considering_

Miho turned off her phone and sighed. She was feeling so many different things right now. Sooner or later she would have to pick one.

She lay back down on her bed, listlessly putting an arm up into the air. Screw going to class today. It would be useless anyway. She wondered about what had happened. As she did so, a cry welled up in her throat, but she remembered. She was a Nishizumi, and a Nishizumi didn't cry.

She thought about the last time she had cried. It had been when Maho went off to Kuromorimine. She hadn't wanted to see her big sister go, taking the tank with her and leaving Miho behind. They had had so much fun in the months leading up to that date and both of them had wished it would never end. But in the end Maho had come to terms with what she had to do, reassured Miho that they would be schoolmates once more, sisters reunited, the next year, and moved on to begin the next stage of her life.

Moved on...

The phrase caught her in an odd way. Surely Maho had gone somewhere better, a reward for her years of trying in this life?

Or was the afterlife as cold and unforgiving as Kuromorimine had been for Miho? The thought of Maho suffering so was unbearable.

She felt a hot tear begin to fill her eye, but wiped it away with her sleeve. She mustn't show any reaction. It would be unbecoming of her. Who else would be the heiress to the Nishizumi style now?

And then her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of her phone ringing. She sat up and picked up the call. "Hello?" she said. Her voice betrayed nothing.

Shiho Nishizumi's voice came back from the other end of the line. "You got the news. Your father is making arrangements to bring her body home."

"Oka-san..." Miho said, starting to lose her composure. "How did you find out?"

Shiho continued on, her voice solid and stony, devoid of any motherliness. "Be in Kumamoto City as soon as possible, we'll let you know the details."

"W-where are you right now?"

"At the airport. I'll be on my way to Germany in a few minutes to bring her home and begin funeral preparations."

"You sound panicked, Oka-san," Miho said, a little concerned by Shiho's tone. "Is there anything—"

"No," came the reply. "Be there for the funeral. Goodbye." The line clicked off.

Miho was thoroughly puzzled. Just a couple months prior, Shiho had gladly presented Ooarai the Sensha-dō Meteor Award. Now she was back to her steel self that had put so much pressure on Miho and Maho. If losing a sister was devastating, Miho didn't even want to know what it was like to lose a child. You weren't supposed to outlive your children, but Shiho had done just that. Now Miho, the daughter she had once disowned, was all she had left.

Miho did not leave her room for the rest of the day. She spent hours and hours in there, struggling to process the sudden sea change in her life. Only late in the evening, when she had come up with no way to cope, did she emerge from her room, defeated and disheveled, and got a bottle of water without saying a word to anyone. People stared, but under the circumstances, she decided, it didn't matter what they thought. Maho was dead and nothing would change that.


	4. Chapter 4

The entire Kuromorimine Sensha-dō team wiped tears from their eyes as they filed past the coffin in which Maho Nishizumi's lifeless body lay, each one of them pausing as they passed to say a short prayer and their final goodbyes. The three remaining members of the Nishizumi family stood off to the side, accepting the condolences in turn of each tanker bereft of their beloved commander.

"I'm so sorry, Miho-san," Koume Akaboshi said as she walked up to them. "We all loved her, you know we did. She was our strength."

"And I haven't met anyone so devoted as she was to her honor," Shiho Nishizumi said, a hint of reproach in her voice. Both Miho and Koume winced. This was no time for the head of the family to lob insults. Had Shiho really relapsed to this?

"And she maintained such quiet dignity," Koume shot back in a low voice. Then she bowed to the three Nishizumis—Miho and her parents—and headed outside, where the majority of the team was waiting, having already paid their respects.

When the Kuromorimine tankers were all out of the Nishizumi house, those remaining inside approached the coffin and said a brief prayer. Then they slowly closed the lid as they looked upon Maho's face for the last time. She looked so peaceful, Miho thought. She was spared the hell that Miho was living through at the moment. The auburn-haired Ooarai commander turned away, nearly in tears, as the lid finally thudded shut.

A sword was placed upon the coffin—a German cavalry sword because of the Nishizumi family's inextricable ties to Kuromorimine, and a nod to what tanks had replaced in the field. Then banners were set up in the room, and six Kuromorimine girls walked in, handpicked by Shiho Nishizumi as pallbearers. They picked up the coffin gingerly and bore their deceased leader out the door into the sunlight.

* * *

Help had come from all over to prepare for Maho's funeral. The airlift crew from Saunders had taken time out of their weekend to ship the Nishizumi family Tiger I back from Germany. News cameras rolled, silently except for the gentle hum of their system cooling fans.

Normally the funeral procession would have been more private, but due to the high-profile nature of the family, today it consisted of several hundred people, including the Sensha-dō teams from several schools, classmates from Niedersächsische Universität (including Kaede) and an army of the press. The preparations had been made with the public nature of the event in mind.

The six pallbearers brought the coffin out into the open, and a hush fell over the crowd as they carried it towards the street. Waiting for them was the Tiger I, with an ornate hearse hitched to the back on the tow cable D-rings. Her trusty iron steed would bring her to her final resting place.

Maho's crew from her third year of high school was inside, but the commander's hatch was conspicuously open and empty, a black void, a reminder that the tank, too, had lost its commander and therefore its heart and soul. The rest of the Kuromorimine tanks were arranged in two long lines behind it and the crews were climbing in.

When the hearse was closed and the double doors on the back secured, the driver of the Tiger I opened her hatch and signaled to a lone Saunders bugler off to the side. The tanks began to roll forward in perfect unison at a walking pace, spurred on by a hushed radio call sent out by the Tiger I's crew.

The melody of "Panzerlied" began to sound slowly from the bugler, while the commanders of the lined-up tanks looked silently at the empty gap of the open hatch on Kuromorimine's old flag tank. Once the tanks' pace had steadied, the people in the crowd took their place behind them and they walked in silence down the road.

They walked past houses, with curious onlookers glancing out their windows. They walked past storefronts that Maho used to know so well. They walked past news cameras broadcasting it for the world to see. And through all of it the engines of the tanks continued to rumble grimly, the individual track links hitting the ground with rhythmic thumping like drums.

The Ooarai girls marched with the procession as well, with Yukari standing a little way out from the rest of them, a few feet closer to her commander and idol. A few of the Rabbit Team girls were silently crying, mostly out of sympathy for Miho, but Azusa and Saki walked steadfastly side by side in Yukari's immediate wake. They would be beacons of strength for their commander in her hour of need.

Also there were several students from other major Sensha-dō schools—St. Gloriana, Pravda, Saunders, and Chi-Ha-Tan, to name a few. Essentially, anyone who had ever encountered firsthand the tank commanding genius that was Maho Nishizumi showed up in the funeral procession that day.

At last they approached the cemetery, for Shiho had decided to have Maho buried instead of the customary cremation. The Kuromorimine tanks formed a line around the cemetery while the Tiger I continued steadily into the cemetery, towing its commander behind it in the hearse to her final resting place.

The tank stopped in front of an open grave. The pallbearers approached the hearse and removed the coffin from it. A light crane moved in from the shadows of the trees to handle things from this point onward.

The crowd gathered around the grave as Maho's coffin was lowered in. Shiho picked up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over the coffin. It cascaded over the top and disappeared into the spaces along the sides. Soon Miho followed suit, then her father Tsuneo did likewise. Before long, all of the people Maho had known well had cast a handful of soil over her coffin. Shovels would take it from here.

After a few minutes of Tsuneo and Shiho grimly depositing layer after layer of soil atop Maho's coffin, all that remained to be seen was a rectangular patch of dirt in the ground, a little excess off to the side, and a granite headstone in which was engraved:

MAHO NISHIZUMI

KEEPER OF THE NISHIZUMI STYLE

MAY SHE FIND REST IN ETERNITY

Below this were the respective birth and death dates, and then a chilling reminder of how young she had been:

GREAT POTENTIAL UNREALIZED

When this was complete, Shiho finally addressed the crowd. The microphone squealed with feedback; she tapped it once and it stopped.

"Thank you all for being here today," she said in a husky voice. "It means the world to us that you wish to share her memory with us. We are now going to conduct a twenty-one gun salute. If you so desire, you may now cover your ears."

Many of those present did so, looking at the Kuromorimine tanks lined up outside the cemetery, but to their surprise the Tiger I's turret swung around so the gun was facing out over Maho's grave and elevated as high as it could get. Then the thunderous boom of its 88-millimeter KwK 36 filled the cemetery, at a steady cadence, twenty-one times. When the gun finally fell silent, it resumed its position facing forward at a level elevation.

The crowd slowly filed out of the cemetery, headed home after the funeral. When they had all gone and just a few Kuromorimine students were standing nearby, Miho approached the grave and knelt beside it.

"Sleep tight," she whispered. "You're safe. Away from the toil and strife. I hope you're happy, wherever you are."

"Miho." A voice was calling to her.

"Onee-san," Miho whispered, "you were always my rock. Now I don't have that anymore. Help me out a little here, maybe? So much is expected of me yet I can deliver on so little of it."

"Miho." That voice again. What did they want?!

"Anyways, goodbye, Maho-san. Goodbye, my big sister. I'll see you again someday, but for now, hold down the fort for me there, okay?" There was a wistful smile on her face, but tears squeezed from her eyes.

"Miho!" The voice was right behind her. Cold, clear, precise and demanding. She turned around just in time to see Shiho approaching.

"What is it, Oka-san?"

"I didn't want to do this in front of the cameras, but you need to go now. You're done."

"What do you mean?" Miho was feeling that rare emotion of anger.

"You picked the apartment that she died in. You," she said, pointing an enraged finger, "signed her death warrant!"

"Wha-wha-what are you talking about?" Miho's voice was a high-pitched protest.

"Get out of here! Now! You dishonor the family and her memory! She wouldn't have wanted someone like you to cry over her death! Go on! Leave!"

Miho stood there, dumbfounded. She had had no indication that this was coming. All she had been doing was paying her respects to her sister. And now she was being told to leave.

"Oka-san, you're sure you're okay—"

"Don't worry about how I am. It's none of your business."

"What?!"

"As of right now, Miho, you are no longer a Nishizumi. You have no right to be here. Go with the rest of the mourners. Maho's father and I will see to final affairs."

Miho froze, unsure what to do. Surely Shiho wasn't being rational! This had to be a fit of madness.

"Oka-san, I—"

"Don't call me that. You're not my daughter anymore. You are disinherited. You serve no purpose as far as we are concerned."

"Shiho..." Tsuneo Nishizumi tried to soothe her, putting his hand on her arm.

"Don't you touch me," she snapped, pulling her arm away. To Miho she shouted, "What are you still doing here?! Leave! Now! And never show your face around me again!" Her voice was an enraged roar.

Miho felt herself about to cry. She almost let it go, but instead turned and bolted for the cemetery entrance. She blew past Koume, Yukari, and everyone else who cared. She retraced the procession's path to the Nishizumi house.

She sprinted inside and grabbed her belongings from her bedroom, then started to head back out. This was when she noticed the shrine looking exactly as it had before the funeral, like Maho had never been there at all.

It was too much. Miho broke down in waves of tears that rocked her to the core. She sank to her knees, crying out Maho's name and meaningless apologies for nothing at all that would not earn her Shiho's forgiveness for doing absolutely nothing wrong.

A face appeared in the doorway, a curious servant looking to see what the ruckus was. But upon seeing Miho there, the face backed away, leaving Miho alone in the Nishizumi house with her belongings and her grief.


	5. Chapter 5

Shiho Nishizumi stared down the length of the conference room table at the unforgiving face at the other end. "Suspended? You mean I'm out?"

"Until such time as you demonstrate an ability to handle your post in the Japanese Sensha-dō Federation, you will be given unpaid leave."

Shiho was incensed. "On what grounds?"

"Well, let's take a look at the first complaint against you in this stack." The imposing man opposite Shiho opened a manila folder and pulled out a pile of documents. "First one, sixth of June. Verbally harassing the judges for making 'the wrong call.' Second one...ordering a student ejected from the game on the basis of...having the same haircut as Maho Nishizumi? Really?"

"Don't talk about my family," Shiho said quietly, folding her arms, furrowing her brow, and biting her lip.

"Third one...drunkenness at a match...is this really you, Shiho-san? You, the head of the Nishizumi style, acting out like a teenager?"

"Fuck you," Shiho whispered, her eyes aflame with injured pride.

"What was that?"

"You heard what I said," Shiho seethed. "The Federation is being run by a bunch of charlatans with no knowledge of what Sensha-dō is about. You men, you can't even begin to understand what it's like. This sport is my dream. It's everything I've ever wanted, everything I've ever worked for. And you idiots, you fakes, want to take that away from me?"

Chiyo Shimada stepped out of the shadows, alarmed. "Shiporin, just stop. Listen to yourself."

"Don't you dare call me that!" The sudden yell made Chiyo jump back. "You and your stupid Shimada style, what the hell did you think you could accomplish with that? Your line lost to my daughters, back when I still had daughters. You could only win against weak schools. That's all your method is. It is nothing compared to the Nishizumi style!"

"Insulting a Federation member...a fireable offense," the man at the other end of the conference room table droned.

"You want me gone? You really want me gone, huh? Well, fine! I quit!" Shiho exploded. "The Nishizumi style is the last hope for Sensha-dō, and now it's dead! It died with my beloved daughter and it ends right here! Right now! In this room! All of you are despicable." She pulled out her wallet and removed her Japanese Sensha-dō Federation ID card, then hurled it to the floor. "The Nishizumi style is dead! I'm out! I hereby resign!"

"Shiporin, what's gotten into you?" Chiyo cried. "You can't just leave! Calm down! Miho-san needs you! Would Maho-san have wanted this?"

"Miho-san? I don't know who you're talking about," Shiho said venomously, starting towards the door.

"Your daughter? You don't even remember your surviving daughter's name? How is that even possible?"

"I only have one daughter, and she is dead. This 'Miho-san' you speak of is not my daughter." Shiho exited the conference room and slammed the door behind her.

Chiyo stood there somewhat forlornly. This heartless being that was Shiho Nishizumi had finally done it, finally disowned Miho completely and tried to wipe the very thought of the Ooarai commander from her mind. She couldn't imagine herself doing that to Alice. It was inhuman.

"Chiyo-san?" the man at the conference room table asked, considerably more gentle now. "Are you all right?"

Chiyo sniffed to clear her head. "It's nothing. I just can't believe she'd do that to her own daughter. And besides, the Nishizumi style is not dead, despite what she says. A style lives as long as its practitioners are there to refine it."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," the man said, "but I do know this. She wants one thing in her life right now, and that is control. Her life spiraled as soon as Maho Nishizumi died. She lost an heiress and Kuromorimine lost an idol. And all of it was out of her hands."

"She just can't see it, can she?" Chiyo said, shaking her head. "Instead of taking anything back she threw it all away. I don't think Maho-san would have wanted that."

The two of them sat uncomfortably in the conference room, pondering what they had just said.

"Wasn't she getting on so well with Miho-san in the weeks leading up to Maho's death?" Chiyo went on after a few seconds of silence. "She had a fun outlook, one that she was learning to adopt, and this changed all that. You know what the irony in all this is, though?"

"What?"

"She broke one of the first rules of the Nishizumi style: never retreat and always persevere. Talk about an about-face."

"I see. Anyway, my secretary is making a pot of tea as we speak. Would you care for some as soon as it's brewed?"

"Yes, certainly. And I have the dates for my workshop at St. Gloriana all set here." Chiyo handed the man a slip of paper with some dates written on it, smiling a little. "This is how we keep the practitioners in play."

* * *

Saori led a few wide-eyed first-years, new members of the team, around the Ooarai tank garages, showing them the sights and explaining what each tank was.

"And this here is our M3 Lee, operated by Azusa-chan and five others who were in a position not unlike yourselves when they first showed up. My, how they've grown!" Saori nearly squealed at the thought. "They're called Rabbit Team for quick reference in the field—besides, it's fun!"

The girls nodded silently, more aware of the shadow a member of Anglerfish Team like Saori cast over their lack of experience than she was.

"What, aren't you excited? This is where it all began! We combed through the ship and we got most of the tanks you see right there on the first go!"

"Not to interrupt, Saori-senpai," one of the first-years said nervously, raising her hand, "but where's your tank?" The Panzer IV was absent from the bunch.

"I was just getting to that! It's right through these doors here!" Saori gestured to a gigantic set of green double doors on the garage. She unlatched one of them and tugged with all her might until it slowly cracked open, and the girls all filed in.

There, in that one garage space, was the Panzer IVH that had been at the center of it all, sitting proudly, cleaned and polished, ready for action, and atop its turret sat the living legend that was Miho Nishizumi.

"Jesus Christ, Miporin!" Saori exclaimed. "What are you doing here in the dark? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

One of the first-years swooned at the sight of the girl she had been worshipping for a solid year. There was a bit of a clamor, but Miho took no notice.

"Are you all right?" Saori asked. "Oh, by the way, girls, this is Miho-san, our commander here at Ooarai."

"M-Miho…sama…" another one of the first-years choked, nearly sinking to her knees.

"Pleased to meet you," Miho said with unnatural indifference. "Who are they?"

"New team members," Saori answered. "A lot of our new members are having scheduling conflicts, so I decided to make some room for them."

"Whatever. Tell them to be back here at three for practice." Miho bowed her head and resumed her thinking or whatever it was she was doing there.

Saori ushered the fawning freshmen out of the garage, telling them to be there later that afternoon, then shut the door behind her. "Really, what's the matter, Miporin? I've never seen you like this before."

"Well, considering that I just lost my sister and my mother disowned me," Miho replied, "I'd say I'm doing all right."

"If you say so, Miporin," Saori said doubtfully. "Anyway, see you at practice." She made her exit, leaving Miho in the dark still sitting atop the tank with its cartoonish anglerfish logo painted on the turret skirts.

* * *

The Ooarai tanks rolled forward in a line, all searching for Leopon Team, which had been given the monumental task of staying alive for thirty minutes against the rest of them. As they advanced, the volleyball club's Type 89 began to pull ahead.

"Duck Team, what are you doing?" Miho snapped. "Get back here! You're an easy target!"

"Sorry, but we can survive on our own..." Noriko Isobe muttered over the radio as the light tank slunk back into line.

"Keep going and stay together," Miho said. "We'll find them eventually."

"Aren't we going to do any scouting?" asked Erwin. "Otherwise this is a wild goose chase when you consider how powerful their engine is."

"There's only so far they can run," Miho said coolly. "If we stick together, we can overwhelm them with numbers. Simple as that."

A silence settled over the team, puzzled by the Miho that was telling them to defy their own methods that had won them the last tournament. If anything, Miho was telling them to adopt the old Nishizumi style that Erika Itsumi had already altered after it failed. It was not practical with the tanks they had, but that was what Miho apparently wanted them to do.

Suddenly Miho ordered them to stop. The tanks ground to a halt, prompting complaints from their crews.

"Miho-san, what were you thinking?"

"Why so sudden?"

"We're sitting ducks!"

"Quiet!" Miho shouted. "Let's see if they try to split us up. No matter what happens, stick together." She glanced at the blue flag atop her tank, then directed Hippo Team and Turtle Team to take up concealed positions.

Just as the two self-propelled guns began to back up, there was a rumbling and rustling in the brush about fifty yards ahead. Leopon Team's Tiger (P) suddenly appeared in front of them, and before anyone could react, Anglerfish Team was knocked out and Leopon Team had won. There were groans among the Ooarai girls, especially the first-year new arrivals, disappointed that the great Miho Nishizumi, who had defeated the Kuromorimine juggernaut in last year's finals, had failed so miserably to defeat a single tank in training.

Saori dismounted from the Panzer IV and made her way over to Rabbit Team's M3 Lee, knocking on the side hatch. It opened and she stuck her head in.

"What was that?" Karina demanded. "That's not the Nishizumi-dono we know and love!"

She's been talking to Yukari-san, hasn't she? Saori thought. "I hope I'm not the only one who noticed how she changed as soon as Maho's funeral was over. Even before the funeral, she at least seemed to have some sort of life in her. She's just been listless and irritable lately."

"You heard about what happened after the funeral, right?" Aya said. "Her mother disowned her."

"I heard about that. And yet she never said a word!" Saori mused. "Just like everything that was happening last year, she kept her silence. Doesn't she trust anyone enough to at least tell us what's the matter with her?"

"I don't claim to be an expert on this," Azusa piped up, "but I can't imagine she would be all right if she lost her sister and then got disowned. That's like punching someone in the face and then giving them a sucker punch in the gut. She has nowhere to turn."

"What do you mean?" Karina protested. "She has all of us!"

Azusa smiled sadly. "When people are under pressure, they fall back on their basic training. In her case, that basic training is the old Nishizumi style of Sensha-dō."

"What about the pressure?"

"Think about it, Karina-chan. If you were suddenly thrust out in the cold of the world without any hope of things returning to normal, would you be running at your best?"

"I dunno," Karina mumbled, overwhelmed by the wall of reasoning coming out of Azusa's mouth. "This is all Greek to me."

"Let me put it in the simplest terms I can," Azusa said. "Her family's gone. That's going to reduce her performance at the very least."

"I think I get it now," Karina replied. "Azusa-san, you're always so smart!"

Azusa smiled, glanced quickly at Yuuki, then commenced the post-training checklist for the M3 Lee.

* * *

Aboard HMS _Ark Royal,_ the school ship of St. Gloriana Girls' College, a long line of tanks stood at the ready—a Churchill Mark VII, several Crusaders, and a number of Matildas. Their crews stood out in front, watching the approaching dust cloud from the Sensha-dō practice field. In front of them, Orange Pekoe paced back and forth, their new overall commander since the legendary Darjeeling had graduated.

Hers were some big shoes to fill, and if Pekoe's performance in Tankathlon was any indication, she was not exactly a strategic genius like Darjeeling was. She was merely a loader promoted by Darjeeling's line of succession on the team, but the reputation of St. Gloriana would rest in her hands for two more years until she herself stepped off the graduation stage.

So Orange Pekoe, thrust into command of a major powerhouse school in Sensha-dō and other things, had decided that she would optimize the team. They had never won the nationals since Pekoe had been there, but Darjeeling's uncanny ability to coordinate a battle had always gotten them close. Yet skill, Pekoe had noted, was not the only thing that could propel a school to victory.

To accomplish this, first she had purchased five new tanks, drawing the money from auctioning off many things including the Cromwell. These new tanks were neither infantry tanks nor cruiser tanks, but Centurion Mark Is, the pioneering design of the main battle tank. Then she had called in Chiyo Shimada to instruct them in the ways of the Shimada style. The Alumnae Council and some of the more spoiled students had complained, but Pekoe had been steadfast in her determination to make St. Gloriana unstoppable.

The five new Centurions came into view, shaped into a wedge formation with a car in front of them. The entourage stopped in front of the old St. Gloriana lineup, and Chiyo Shimada emerged from the car.

"Welcome, Shimada-dono," Pekoe greeted her with a smile and a bow. "We are delighted that you could make it this afternoon to teach us."

"Are you, now?" Chiyo said girlishly. "We're always taking new people in the Shimada style!"

Pekoe smiled. "May we get you some tea? Make yourself at home."

"Why, yes, please. That would be lovely." Chiyo surveyed the tanks and their crews, studying them so she would know what to do with these British tanks. How inflexible these infantry and cruiser tanks were! Neither one was especially well-armed, and there was no middle ground on anything between the two. She wished St. Gloriana at least had a Comet in their arsenal.

Then she remembered the five Centurions that had been right behind her all the way to the practice field. How had she nearly forgotten about them? They had been in her blind spot, but a Shimada knew to look in her blind spot!

"Stupid...stupid..." she muttered, then turned to face Pekoe. "Very well. Let's get started. That's the first thing of the Shimada style—don't waste time."

Orange Pekoe chuckled. "We're all grateful to you for taking the time to do this today. All crews, to your tanks!" Her voice was high, but she had learned how to be commanding with it from her experience in command of the Chindits. The St. Gloriana girls climbed into their tanks in near-perfect unison, except for those crewing the Centurions—they were already there.

Chiyo Shimada climbed up into a nearby observation tower with a radio handset and Pekoe climbed into her Churchill.

"Ready to begin?" Chiyo asked.

"Ready, Shimada-dono!" chorused the girls in reply.

"All right, then! Proceed to the practice field and wait for my instructions!"

The St. Gloriana tanks moved obediently out onto the field. This was the beginning of a new era—if not in Sensha-dō, then at least in St. Gloriana's history. This was how Orange Pekoe would leave her legacy as commander. With a new method and a levelheaded leader, the new St. Gloriana Sensha-dō team would be unstoppable.

* * *

A few days later, at the headquarters of the Japanese Sensha-dō Federation, the teams from sixteen schools gathered anxiously in the auditorium for the bracketing process. The 64th National Sensha-dō Tournament was fast approaching, and the Federation had decided to make the ceremony early this year and hold it out of sight to avoid the media's questions about Shiho Nishizumi.

"Would the commanders of each school please come up?" the emcee said. "There are sixteen paper slips in this bowl. Each of you will draw one. Report your number when we call on you."

Miho stood up and trudged down the aisle to the stage, looking around at the other commanders doing the same thing. Aki was there, from Jatkosota. So were Erika Itsumi from Kuromorimine, Nina from Pravda, and Orange Pekoe. She felt out of place there, the only one among them who had been her school's overall commander the previous year as well.

Her eyes met Erika's. The latter girl had never liked Miho, not since their rocky start in middle school, but both of them had loved Maho and the hatred that had once filled Erika's eyes at the very sight of Miho was gone. Miho's mouth smiled in recognition of the thing that now bound them together, but her eyes were not smiling. They held only sadness.

The next few moments were all a blur to Miho as she pulled a piece of paper out of the bowl and unfolded it. The number 13 jumped out at her in black calligraphy. She chuckled at the irony of it all—that was supposed to be an unlucky number, wasn't it? It seemed that luck these days just had a habit of passing her by.

She later could not remember reporting the number—only from her teammates describing the anxiety filling the room as she called it out did she even know she had done it—but the results of the bracketing for the first round were as follows:

-St. Gloriana Girls' College vs. Pravda High School

-Waffle Academy vs. Anzio High School

-Saunders University High School vs. Kuromorimine Girls' Academy

-Maginot Girls' Academy vs. Koala Forest Academy

-Viking Fisheries Academy vs. BC Freedom Academy

-Bonple High School vs. Chi-Ha-Tan Academy

-Ooarai Girls' Academy vs. Jatkosota High School

-Yogurt Academy vs. Blue Division High School

The matches were set. Each team walked out of the ceremony with their heads held high, some more confident than others, but all excited for the tournament. The second year of Ooarai's new legacy in Sensha-dō, inspiring girls from all over to take up the sport, had begun.


	6. Chapter 6

Miho had scarcely closed the door to her room as she left for class when she noticed someone standing right there. She stepped back, startled. "Taiga-san! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Hey, Miho-san!" the bespectacled reporter from the Ooarai Broadcasting Club greeted her. "I've been looking for you all morning!"

Miho bit her lip. "And what are the odds that you found me right outside my dorm?"

Taiga smiled sheepishly. "Well, truth be told, I did sort of go to where I knew you'd be. But anyway, the Broadcasting Club would like to interview you for our nightly news report. Do you suppose you could do that?"

Miho gulped. She had been completely blindsided by this approach. Taiga was no stranger to impromptu interviews—that was well known—but accosting her outside her dorm at the exact moment of her exit was questionable at best, bordering on terrifying. It was almost like she had been lying in wait.

After an awkward pause, she finally smiled at Taiga, but her voice was a little icy. "You're very patient, aren't you?"

Taiga looked taken aback by the thinly veiled accusation. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Forget it. You want me to do an interview?"

"Seeing as the nationals are approaching, we figured we'd like to hear your thoughts on the team this year. Mind if we talk inside?"

"Inside?"

"Your room."

Miho shrugged, seeing that Taiga wasn't really giving her a choice. "Whatever. Come on in. I can afford to be a little late."

"Great!" Taiga perked up. "Let's get started then, shall we?" She ushered Miho back into the room from which she had just emerged.

Miho sat down on her bed while Taiga pulled up a chair and pulled a small recorder out of her satchel, setting it on Miho's nightstand and turning it on.

"Hello and welcome to all our valued listeners at Radio Ooarai," she began. "This is Taiga Ou and I'm here with Miho Nishizumi, commander of the Sensha-dō team and a legend in her own right."

Miho grimaced a little at the praise, having heard it all before and having long since become sick of the effusive outpouring of worship coming from every die-hard Sensha-dō fan in Japan. She adjusted her position, trying to relax by crossing her legs and taking a silent deep breath.

"Thank you, Taiga-san," she said, only making herself sound as friendly as she would need to be for the radio. Her face was downcast. "It's a pleasure to be here." In reality, it wasn't.

"So, Miho-san, we might as well just get down to it. How's the team this year?"

"They're doing great," Miho lied. "Last year was good and I'm confident we can do it again this year."

"Who are some of your top members this year?"

Miho thought for a moment. "Our Duck Team and Leopon Team are some of our best, but they're all doing really great, they really are." She noticed Taiga pushing up the corners of her mouth as a signal to put a little more life into her words, which had started to sound canned.

"As I understand it, Azusa Sawa is the commander of your M3 Lee, known unofficially as 'Rabbit Team,' correct?"

"Yes, why?"

"Is she your successor in commanding the team after you graduate? We heard something about that."

Miho chuckled, still quite displeased to be talking into the recorder. "It's ultimately not my choice, but if I had to guess, she will be. She's smart enough, skilled enough, and certainly levelheaded enough. I have high hopes for her."

Taiga shifted in her seat. "What about these last few weeks? Some of your teammates are reporting that you seemed very...detached. Care to comment on that?"

Miho looked at her in confusion. _Am I on trial here or something?_ she wondered. _Taiga seems to have really done her homework, asking around about me._

She fumbled for an answer. "It was—um—well, I've been under a lot of stress lately—you know, managing school, dealing with the team—"

"I have to imagine," Taiga interrupted, "especially with the recent death of your sister."

Miho's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

Taiga cleared her throat. "For those of you listening, I'm referring to the death of Maho Nishizumi in Germany a few months ago. Miho, everyone's thoughts and prayers are with you in this difficult time."

"If it's all right with you," Miho replied tersely, "I've answered enough questions about my sister's death for one lifetime. Could you ask me about something else?"

"Training lately—was that a shade of Maho's style?" Taiga was continuing to press her.

"I don't like where this is going," Miho said, struggling to maintain her composure as the grief and pain came flooding back. "This interview"—here she switched off the recorder, ignoring Taiga's exclamation of protest—"is over. I'm late as it is." She stood up and headed for the door, slamming it behind her as she hurried out.

When she was safely out of sight, she stopped on the sidewalk, took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her hair, and then proceeded to the main school building, trying desperately to avoid thinking about the disastrous interview that had just taken place.

* * *

Saori slid the newspaper across the table so that Miho could see. "What is this, Miporin?" she asked. "What happened?"

Miho stopped chewing her breakfast and looked at the headline. SENSHA-DŌ COMMANDER STORMS OUT OF INTERVIEW FOR RADIO OOARAI, it read. Below it, the subtitle queried: _Is she fit to command after Maho Nishizumi's death?_

Saori put her hands on the table. "If you're struggling to hold on, Miporin, just tell me. I can help. You know I'm always here for you."

"That's the thing, Saori-san," Miho replied coldly. "You can't help, not with this. I have to get through this myself."

"But you've been so detached lately! I'm starting to feel like I don't even know you anymore."

"I'll be fine. I just need some time."

Saori leaned back and folded her arms. "That's the same thing you said on the day of the funeral and you haven't seemed fine since then. What's going on? Why can't you just tell me?"

"You already know I got disowned," Miho said, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"But I've seen you come out of all sorts of hardships unscathed and victorious," Saori protested. "There's got to be—"

"That's all there is to it," Miho interrupted. "Now can I please eat my breakfast in peace?"

"Okay, okay!" Saori said, lifting her hands off the table. "I'll leave you alone. But take it from me: this charade of being all right is completely transparent!" She stood up and left the room.

When Saori had gone, Miho took a deep breath and let her mind race. How petty Taiga Ou was! She had shown what seemed to Miho like open disregard for the sensitivity of Maho's death. Barging in to ask questions like that—it wasn't right! It wasn't fair! She had no clue what it was like!

And Saori—there was no explaining it to her. Saori Takebe lived her life free as a bird, under no pressure to be a Takebe or anything like that. The only pressure she knew was the urge she imposed upon herself to get a boyfriend, which was—Miho chuckled a little at this—a hopeless task, considering they were onboard the school ship of the Ooarai Girls' Academy.

Miho had never articulated it to anyone, but when Shiho Nishizumi had disowned her and then declared the Nishizumi style of Sensha-dō dead, she had vowed to honor Maho's memory in her heart, in her actions, and in her words. The immediate question that had popped into her head was this: how?

She had not had to spend too long thinking about that. Maho had always practiced the old Nishizumi style, always advancing, never faltering, pushing on towards victory or the destruction of her entire force and usually coming out on top. The Nishizumi style had never failed her, except when Miho had gotten involved and been the weak link or the one able to outmaneuver her sister simply by having a lighter tank.

Well, Miho Nishizumi was done being the weak link. She was done being a disappointment to her family, which had thrown her out already. Ooarai had won in the previous year's tournament simply because all of the girls had fought with their heads.

But where did that leave her? The one biggest thing she had always admired about Maho was her initiative. Maho had always had a plan, been able to make the tank forces under her command move as if by magic, and been able to defeat the enemy under the crushing weight of the machine-like force she operated. Now Miho was in her second year of commanding an entire force herself, and if she had to guess, Maho would appreciate seeing her take the initiative and lead her forces to victory.

Not so long ago she had thought that the key to Ooarai's success was everyone fighting according to their strengths and having fun along the way. But now she couldn't see it. Everything just seemed so meaningless at this point. She had watched Erika Itsumi modify the Nishizumi style into something more flexible, something that allowed for speed attacks. But that took the ability to think, and Miho couldn't think at the moment. All she could do was fight.

So she chose to do what she had always done when she was younger: learn from what Maho did. Not all of it was good, but far more often than not, it had been what was needed to succeed. Her own life had long been a litany of failures, flops, and poor decisions.

That reminded her of the other thing about Maho: she never wasted words. Her instructions were always clear and precise, her thought process rational, everything a good tank commander needed to be. Miho had been trying to master that lately, with varying degrees of success, but she was certain that with enough practice, she would be her sister's shining star in a world of pain.

So Taiga Ou could say what she wanted about it, her crews could complain all they liked about her commanding style, but she was resolved more than ever now not to fail them or Maho. She had once read that people fall back on their basic training. Well, her basic training had not failed her, and she wasn't about to let it fail her now.

Her thoughts were broken by the sudden realization that she had chugged her entire cup of coffee in one go. She stood up uneasily, toddled over to the coffee pot, and poured herself another cup.

* * *

That day could not possibly have passed more slowly than it did. Everywhere Miho walked, people were looking at her, trying to decide for themselves if this was the same girl who had shut down an interview with Ooarai's most popular reporter, and then upon deciding that she was, they turned away, content with their own affairs, not going to bother with someone who refused to answer their burning questions.

News spread like wildfire on this ship, and with it came rumors. Exactly what the rumors were, no one was telling Miho, but she was certain there were some flying around.

Even in Sensha-dō practice that day, preparing for an upcoming training match against Anzio, the usual chatter that let Miho know that her crews were awake and having fun was instead replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. Anglerfish Team's Panzer IV was ominously quiet, save for the roar of the engine and the clanking of the tracks. They were all treading lightly around Miho, trying to avoid saying something that would set her off lest they end up in Taiga Ou's shoes.

At one point, when they were about to cross the bridge, Saori attempted to lighten the mood a little. "He who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me...these...questions three," she ventured, her voice trailing off when no one in the tank gave any indication of having heard her. "What is it with you four? You've hardly said a word to each other."

No one answered Saori. They heard her, all right, but no one wanted to be the first to provoke Miho.

Saori huffed in frustration. "Well, I guess none of you want to talk. I'll shut up, then." She turned back to facing front, staring at the stock of the machine gun in front of her.

The tank slowly trundled over the bridge, seeing no sign of anyone else. Yukari looked up at Miho, a little concerned by the lack of any instructions whatsoever.

"Nishizumi-dono, what do we do after we cross the bridge?" she inquired. "Turn left? Go right? Go straight? What?"

"Turn right," Miho answered tersely, her first words in fifteen minutes. "If what I saw earlier is correct, we'll encounter Rabbit Team. Mako-san, go." With that, the tank swung sharply to the right.

No one said anything further as they came into a clearing. Rabbit Team was on the other side.

"Not yet," Miho droned to Hana. "We need to close the range first to be sure of a hit."

No sooner had she said this than the 75-millimeter gun in the Lee's side sponson went off and the Panzer IV's white flag popped up.

A strange, half-crazed smile spread across Miho's face. "This is why we need to operate with force. We need something to absorb incoming shells." With that, she climbed out of the tank. Saori popped open her hatch and went after her.

"Miporin? This isn't like you at all!" she said as Miho walked away from the tank. "Come on! Aren't you going to talk about it?"

"If I want to talk, I'll let you know," Miho called dismissively over her shoulder as she continued into the trees. "Okay?"

"Geez, Miho-san!" Saori exclaimed. "Whatever happened to the Miporin I met on your first day? Whatever happened to the girl we all know and love? At least answer me that, will you?"

Miho did not respond. She simply continued walking away, her mind so awash in the previous day's events and her little miscalculation in training that she nearly ran into a tree, but she stepped sideways to avoid it just in time. When she was out of sight, she sat down in the shade of the trees. She had a lot to think about.

It was definitely a learning curve, employing the Nishizumi style with Ooarai's lineup. But it wasn't impossible. With a little practice, Miho thought, they could make it work.

She didn't really trust the new members of the team to be as quick-thinking as the now-graduated members from the previous year, especially in the cases of Turtle Team and Leopon Team. So she would do what she had always been trained to do—make them work as a unit, unstoppable by even the strongest resistance. They had won a great victory in the last year's national finals. Miho was confident that they could do it again, if only the crews followed her lead.

_Don't let them down. Don't let them see you cry. Don't falter, not even once._ These were the thoughts that had pounded through her head, day and night, ever since the funeral. And with the constant bombardment from within, Miho Nishizumi had decided: she would not let her team down. She would not let them see her cry. She would not falter. They would defeat Anzio in the training match and carry the Nishizumi style to its last hurrah in the nationals.

She owed it to Maho. For there was no greater weight on her shoulders than the one her family had put there. Try as she might, she could not free herself of it, so she had one course of action available: to submit, to bend to the will of her family even though they hated her.

Her secret childhood vow had always been to make Maho proud. Here was her chance, and it was incumbent upon her to fulfill that vow.

She would go to the tournament, she would fight, and she would win. Simple as that. In this difficult time for her, she would show the world that she, Miho Nishizumi, disowned but not forgotten, was still just as strong as ever.


	7. Chapter 7

Miho Nishizumi's life had been a blur for weeks. One thing had led to another and she'd been too downtrodden to pay attention. She had grown listless and had lost more mock battles than she had won. Even so, the girls had undying faith that she could lead them to victory on the battlefield. She was a veteran of Sensha-dō, one who could make decisions that came from a deep-seated place of experience that none of the others had.

As the student council president, Hana Isuzu had taken it upon herself to seek out practice matches, since the only way for the new members of the team to gain real experience beyond the confines of Ooarai was to battle other schools with different fighting styles. The "improvise, adapt, overcome" style that Ooarai had used to push through to victory in the finals of the 63rd National Sensha-dō Tournament depended on careful thinking about how to exploit the weaknesses of other schools' methods, and with their lineup scarcely better than it had been then, they would have to continue with that approach.

Yet the entire thing had caught Miho off guard. She had given a dismissive wave of her hand when Hana notified her about a practice match against Anzio High, pushing it back in her mind to deal with later. That time had passed, and before she even knew it, here she was, on the battlefield, facing Anzio, and despite her years of experience, it felt completely foreign.

The Ooarai team was advancing in a wedge formation, trying to deal with Anzio's three little CV-33 tankettes that kept popping up out of the woods in front of them and peppering them with machine gun fire. Miho ducked her head back into the turret as a stream of tracers zipped towards her tank. It was irritating, but the CV-33s' machine guns could do little more than scratch the Ooarai tanks' paint. Even so, they seemed to be everywhere, making it next to impossible to think with the incessant whining of bullets off of the armor.

Miho remembered the doctrine she had been taught under the Nishizumi style: to advance steadily, to shoot precisely, to keep solid defenses, and that even weak tanks that kept coming were worth a thousand times more in a battle than a powerful tank that refused to put its assets in armor and armament to use. Giving up was not an option. No one had ever won by aborting the mission. And since Sensha-dō was not war, and there was no cost of human life involved, giving up would mean dishonorably forfeiting victory for nothing. She straightened up in her seat, flinching a little every time enemy fire struck the Panzer IV.

"Nishizumi-dono?" Yukari called up from her seat, snapping Miho out of her trance. "What should we do about the tankettes?"

"Uh...uh...Duck Team, go on ahead and skirmish with the CV-33s," Miho radioed, scrambling to clear her head. "Just take out as many as you can. We'll look for the flag tank. All tanks, be on the lookout for Semoventes and the P-40. They may also be fielding their M13/40 medium tanks this time, so be on the lookout for those. Duck Team, go."

Duck Team's Type 89 pulled out in front of the Ooarai formation and drove straight towards the CV-33s, instantly drawing heavy machine gun fire. The tank stopped, took aim with its short-barreled 57-millimeter main gun, and put a shell into a CV-33 backing up out of its foxhole to change positions.

Suddenly a barrage of shells began to kick up fountains of earth around the Ooarai tanks. Miho scanned her surroundings through the viewing ports on her cupola, searching for the source of the gunfire. It took all of five seconds to find it.

"All right, here's what's we're dealing with," she said over the radio. "There's a road running along the treeline at our two-thirty. If you look closely you can see a pack of Semoventes at our two o'clock firing at us. Right at that point, the road turns and goes into the woods. They have an easy escape route at their disposal. But once they take it, their options seem to be pretty limited. We need to attack them so they exploit it and trap themselves with it. The psychological effect of vastly superior numbers coming at them should be enough to make them take that option, since it provides them with more cover than if they just took the road. Is everyone ready?"

The radio came alive with cries of "Ready!" Miho smiled, then hoisted her upper body out of the commander's hatch and drew herself up to her full height. "All tanks, turn to two o'clock and continue to advance towards the Semoventes. Fire on my command!"

The Ooarai tanks all swung around to the right towards the Anzio Semoventes, prompting a surge of machine gun fire from the tankettes buzzing around at what was now their ten o'clock.

"Whatever you do," Miho called out over the din, "don't fall for the gambit. Ignore the tankettes. Duck Team, keep firing at the tankettes to hold them off so they don't disrupt our movements. Everyone else, forward!"

All of the Ooarai tanks began to rumble towards the Semoventes, which kept shooting in their direction. Miho began to notice that the three enemy vehicles were taking turns firing, with the one firing acting as a shield for the other two while they reloaded. She chuckled to herself. Ooarai's lovably nerdy History Club, operating a StuG III and known as the Hippo Team, would almost certainly be all over this one. Miho wasn't much of a history enthusiast herself, but she knew that this was how ancient Roman legions used to fight, rotating men to the back to rest while the next man moved forward to fight the enemy-a conveyor belt of death. It was brutally efficient. But it didn't quite work the same way for tanks—at least, not for lightly armored ones. As long as an attacking force could reliably score hits, something important in the Nishizumi style, this maneuver didn't stand a chance. Its effect was too minimal to warrant changing tactics.

"When we get to within fifty meters, open fire," Miho instructed the crews. "Not yet...not yet..."

The range grew closer and closer, and the firestorm became more intense. Shells tore away the right turret skirt on Anglerfish Team's Panzer IV and exploded against the frontal armor of Leopon Team's Porsche Tiger. Nevertheless, Miho ordered her tanks to press resolutely forward. A little skirmishing by some light self-propelled guns would not break a force led by a daughter of the Nishizumi style, much less the one who had won the national finals the previous year.

At last the range shrank to fifty meters. It was uncomfortably close, but their fire was sure to be deadly. Just as Miho was about to give the order, however, the Semoventes abruptly turned and fled down the road, shielded by the dense forest. The CV-33s made a run for it and joined their more heavily-armed comrades in their escape, dodging fire coming from both Duck Team and the 47-millimeter gun in the turret of Mallard Team's Char B1 bis.

"They're retreating!" Erwin exclaimed. "What now?"

"Keep in mind that this is just a little detachment from their main force," Miho radioed. "We still have the P40 and the M13/40s to worry about. We'll pursue them up the road, but everyone keep your eyes open. Whatever they have planned, if we pay attention to the details, we should be able to defeat it."

"Roger!" the girls shouted, practically in unison. "We'll do our best!"

* * *

Watching the match on the huge railcar-mounted screens that were a staple of every Sensha-dō event, Anzio's former overall commander, Chiyomi Anzai, better known as Anchovy, raised an eyebrow at her former team's latest move. "A simple gambit?" she queried to herself. "You expect them to fall for that?"

She watched the screens as the indicators for the Anzio tanks pivoted and raced down the road away from the Ooarai main force. Carpaccio had taken over after Chiyomi's graduation and was the new Duce, though she found it difficult to imagine how someone as soft-spoken as Carpaccio could capture the loyalty and unconditional love of the happy-go-lucky Sensha-dō team.

The entire world of Sensha-dō had been rocked by the news that Maho Nishizumi, idolized by many girls to a degree that almost surpassed her mother, had died. Such was the way for the truly great, Anchovy had mused. They lived fast and died young, before life had the chance to sully their reputations. But surely no such thing would befall one as strong as a daughter of the Nishizumi style!—or actually, perhaps it was better not to know one way or the other.

Anchovy drummed her fingers on her thigh. She felt almost naked without her riding crop. It had been a part of her from the day she resurrected the Anzio Sensha-dō team, and now it was in Carpaccio's hands. It was the closest thing to a scepter at Anzio, to be held only by the one chosen as Duce.

Carpaccio had never really struck Anchovy as someone capable of handling such an unruly team, but at least she had a level head. The alternative would have been Pepperoni, who despite being full of the kind of spirit and enthusiasm that Anzio needed (and a miracle worker with food, which really got everyone's attention) was quite frankly too stupid to be the Duce. But above all, it was Carpaccio's head for management that had made her the only logical choice to be Anchovy's successor.

The new Anzio looked very different in its style from what Anchovy had known. Carpaccio had done away with Operation Macaroni, Anzio's signature move involving wooden decoys, and had switched to more versatile tactics that did not depend on skilled artists and carpenters. The failure of such methods in the previous year's national tournament against the sharp-eyed Ooarai team had rendered them obsolete, as the fact that Operation Macaroni was not idiot-proof had become embarrassingly obvious.

Now, as a graduate of Anzio and a tank commander for the All-Stars University team, Anchovy was watching her old high school compete in a training match with the same school that had crushed them the previous year. It was clear that Carpaccio was rough around the edges as a team commander, judging by the slight hesitation in the team's movements and slight inefficiency of the execution, but for her first time, she was doing a remarkable job, except for the rather obvious gambit she was throwing at Ooarai.

To Anchovy's surprise, instead of turning around and searching for a way around the woods, the Ooarai tanks continued towards the road, as if completely oblivious to the glaringly obvious trap that Carpaccio had laid, clearly visible on the screens. Surely this wasn't Miho Nishizumi in command! It had to be someone else. Anyone with half a brain would have shied away from such a course of action.

But then again, Miho had used some fairly brazen and seemingly boneheaded methods before and won. Anything was possible, certainly with the school that had risen from the ashes to take the nationals. But Anzio was strong as well. Whatever the outcome, it was going to be a wake-up call for someone.

* * *

The nine Ooarai tanks all squeezed onto the road and began to advance steadily along it, with Leopon Team's Porsche Tiger directly in front of Anglerfish Team's Panzer IV, the flag tank, acting as a shield. But as they continued down the road, they began to notice that there was no sign of the enemy. All was quiet.

"They were right in front of us a minute ago!" Saori complained. "How'd they get out of sight so fast?"

"Sometimes a minute is all it takes," Miho replied. "All tanks, pick up the pace a little. We want them to have as little time as possible if they're setting up a trap."

The roar of the Ooarai tanks' engines grew louder as they accelerated. The girls grew more and more tense, increasingly unnerved by the deafening silence around them. They remembered how a seemingly safe area had nearly been their undoing in the first round of the Winter Continuous Track Cup against BC Freedom Academy, when they had been trapped on the bridge because they had gotten careless. They would not make the same mistake twice. This time they were on high alert.

"Anteater Team, please hang back back a little to scan for anything approaching from the rear," Miho radioed. "Continue advancing, just cover the firing arc behind us."

"Roger," Nekonya replied. "We'll keep our eyes open and let you know if we see anything."

"Thank you. Frontal distractions leading to rear attacks are exactly the kind of thing Anzio would do. Everyone watch for signs of decoys or other deception."

Miho scanned the trees on her left and right as they continued along. The forest was extremely dense, so dense that no tanks could pass through. It was a reassuring sign. At least Anzio couldn't hide out in the woods to ambush them on the road.

Presently they happened upon a little break in the trees on their right. There was what appeared to be a narrow road, little more than a trail, snaking its way through the trees.

"All right, stop," Miho radioed. "We're going to need someone to investigate the trail. Duck Team, advance slowly up the trail and keep us posted with what you find."

"On it," Noriko said. She opened her hatch and stuck her head out, binoculars at the ready. The Type 89 turned and disappeared down the trail.

"All right," Miho said when the sound of Duck Team's engine had faded into silence. "Let's continue. For every second we waste here, Anzio gets an extra second to set up an ambush."

The tanks rolled forward once more, crews on high alert. The girls' senses were sharpened. Their fight-or-flight responses were ready. If Anzio attacked them now, they would be met with a deadly response.

Rounding a bend, they found themselves approaching a fork in the road. To the left, there was a long straightaway that ended in a gentle curve farther down. To the right, the road wound through hilly, heavily forested terrain, disappearing very soon after the fork because of the tight twists and turns.

"Which way, Nishizumi-dono?" Yukari asked. "Are we going left or right?"

Miho narrowed her eyes, struggling a little with making snap decisions like this. "I don't know…left looks easier for our tanks to handle. We don't want to risk snapping tracks or anything, and besides, there could be hazards like ravines at the turns on the right. All tanks, go left."

As the Ooarai team made for the left side of the split, suddenly something on the right caught Miho's eye. It was a Semovente, easily visible because of its sand yellow paint against the shadowy green background of the forest, peeking out from around the first turn. It fired a shell at them, a shot that missed but created enough smoke to partially obscure what it was doing. The Semovente turned to flee, but in the split second before it vanished from sight, Miho spotted a little triangular red flag waving from its casemate. This was Anzio's flag tank.

Miho's eyes narrowed. She had two options, depending on whether or not Anzio was brazen enough to use their flag tank as bait. If they continued to the left as planned, they would buy themselves more time and possibly avoid running into an enemy trap. However, the Anzio flag tank was right in front of them and could be outrun. Bold, decisive action would end the battle quickly, a hallmark of the Nishizumi style. No competent practitioner of that storied method would pass up the chance to crush the enemy.

"Change of plans," Miho radioed after a half-second's deliberation. "We're going right. We'll end this as fast as we can."

The roar of engines reached a fever pitch as the formation swung to the right, pursuing the little Semovente down the road through twists and turns.

"Duck Team, how are we doing on the trail?" Miho called as the Ooarai tanks raced along. "Any sign of enemy activity?"

"Nothing yet," Noriko replied. "Looks like they missed this trail while escaping. We'll keep looking and see if it's a shortcut or anything."

"Okay. If you do see anything, let us know immediately."

The tanks doggedly kept up their pursuit of the flag Semovente, which was going as fast as it could. But before long, they lost sight of it, the second time they had lost Anzio in a chase. The Ooarai formation no longer resembled a formation anyway, since the tanks all had different top speeds, some quick-moving and others painfully sluggish. Miho ordered them to slow to a halt so they could regroup.

Mako yawned and stretched in the driver's seat. "They just keep running. Kind of like a headless chicken. Either this works and we end this soon, or we'll have to think of something else."

Miho thought for a moment about her next move, ignoring Mako's remark. "Keep following them, more slowly this time. They can only get so far before we catch them. Just keep advancing. They can run all they like, but they can't hide. _Panzer vor!"_

* * *

In the turret of Anzio's P26/40 heavy tank, Carpaccio glanced at her watch. The flag Semovente was behind schedule. It should have come into sight two minutes ago. But perhaps the lure was taking more time than anticipated due to Ooarai's movements.

The entire Anzio force was waiting in a wedge formation completely blocking the road. This force consisted of the P40, a few M13/40 medium tanks, the CV-33s, a Semovente da 75/18, and this year's new and truly secret weapon, a Semovente da 75/46 tank destroyer. This last vehicle, known to the Anzio girls as the "Forty-Six" to differentiate it from the other Semoventes, was equipped with the most powerful gun ever to see service with Anzio, capable of penetrating the side armor of a Tiger, and it was also one of the best-armored machines in their arsenal. Together with the P40, it made up the tip of the spear, ready to give Ooarai a nasty shock.

Finally the Semovente carrying the flag came into view, and an M13/40 backed up to let it pass. The little self-propelled gun pulled in behind the P40, sheltered from enemy fire.

Then suddenly there was a rustling noise behind the Anzio tanks. From out of the trees a tank appeared, emerging from what appeared to be a trail. It took no more than a second for them to realize that this was Ooarai's Type 89, Duck Team, which had found them simply by scouting the trail all the way to its end.

Carpaccio could see Noriko frantically pressing the buttons of her throat microphone, about to alert Miho Nishizumi to the presence of the Anzio main force. Without even being prompted, Pepperoni's CV-33 opened fire on the Type 89, peppering it with bullets. Noriko's hands could be seen flying from the throat mic to cover her ears. The noise was deafening. There was no way they could report back to command with such a din. The tank backed up, firing a shot that just missed Pepperoni and clanged off the P40's turret.

"Permission to engage, Duce Carpaccio?" a girl named Amaretto piped up from one of the M13/40s. "We might as well finish them."

"Permission granted," Carpaccio replied. "Engage."

Amaretto's tank swiveled its turret around and unloaded a 47-millimeter shell into the Type 89, striking the side of the hull. The white flag popped up.

"We got 'em!" Amaretto cheered. "One down!"

"And eight more to go," Carpaccio warned, focusing her attention on the rumbling that kept getting closer and closer. "Amaretto-san, go down the trail. If they got a tank up the trail, it must have its other end at a point they've already passed. See if you can get behind them. The rest of you, watch our front!"

As Amaretto's tank raced down the trail through the woods, the Ooarai formation came into view no more than fifty meters away. Before Carpaccio could give the order to fire, the Porsche Tiger of Leopon Team sent a shell screaming towards them. It missed the Semovente da 75/46 by a hair's breadth. Soon the rest of the Ooarai tanks began to follow suit, firing indiscriminately at the Anzio roadblock.

Carpaccio smiled. "Target anything you can! There's only eight of them. Fire at will!"

With that, the Anzio tanks began to return fire. The M3 Lee was hit and knocked out immediately by a well-placed shot from a Semovente. Shells pinged off of some of the others. In response, the Porsche Tiger pulled out in front and spun in place, acting as a shield for the rest of the force.

Amaretto's voice crackled over the airwaves. "We're off the trail and back onto the road. It doesn't look like they have a rear guard or anything. Should I advance?"

"Go ahead. They'll never see it coming." Carpaccio grimaced as a glancing blow from a shell rocked her tank. "We'll keep them occupied for now. Increase the firing rate, girls! Give it some spirit!" She had never been one to rally a team, but somehow holding the riding crop made it easier for her. It really was the closest thing Anzio had to a scepter.

The horrible whoop of the Anzio girls letting loose their war cries filled the air as the gunfire grew more intense, nearly a continuous roar that drowned out all other noise. Smoke filled the air. The tanks began to move around, as if challenging Ooarai to a melée battle.

And amid it all, Carpaccio's eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the Panzer IV for the first time since the battle began. She chuckled to herself. "I've got you nailed, Miho-san. I've got you nailed."

* * *

"Miporin, what are we doing?" Saori exclaimed. "We're all going to get taken out if this continues!" The sound of the Ooarai tanks' guns nearly drowned out her voice, and the return fire from Anzio was no less intense. Shells tore into Shark Team's Mark IV and its white flag went up.

"We're breaking through," Miho replied calmly as Hana fired a shot into an Anzio M13/40, sending the white flag up amid a plume of oily black smoke. "Once we get to their flag tank, this will be over quickly."

Saori fired off a burst from the hull machine gun, spraying the air above the Anzio tanks with tracers. "Leopon Team's going to have to move. They're blocking our path. And besides, if we're trying to break through, shouldn't we just charge right at them? It would be a lot faster than this slugfest!"

"Good point," Miho said. She pressed the buttons on her throat mic. "Leopon Team, please—"

Before Miho could finish her instructions, the Porsche Tiger's white flag suddenly popped up and smoke belched from its engine compartment. She gasped in surprise. "They knocked out Leopon Team!"

"What?" Saori cried. "They don't have anything that could take out a Tiger!"

"Well, clearly they do." Miho tapped Yukari on the shoulder. "Yukari-san, I know it's dangerous with the amount of gunfire at the moment, but could you please take a look at their lineup and see if they have anything that might be a threat?"

"On it, Nishizumi-dono!" Yukari replied eagerly. "Checking it now!" Cracking open her hatch on the side of the turret, she peered out at the Anzio tanks and quickly ducked her head back in to avoid being struck by an incoming shell that might otherwise have taken her head off.

"That thing that took out Leopon—that's no ordinary Semovente," Yukari panted as she shut the hatch and grabbed another shell from the ammunition rack, rattled by the close call but awestruck nonetheless by what she had seen. "They've got a Semovente da 75/46 tank destroyer, and it definitely wasn't there last year, so it's probably their new secret weapon. It packs a Cannone da 75/46 in a casemate with up to a hundred millimeters of sloped armor. It's—"

"Okay, we get it," Mako droned lazily from down in the hull. "Just cut to the chase. Can it take out a Porsche Tiger?"

Yukari blinked, caught slightly off guard by the interruption, then answered the question. "From the side at close range, yes. Its gun fires a 75-millimeter shell, like the other Semoventes in Anzio's lineup, but at a much higher velocity, ergo more armor penetration." She shoved the shell into the breech and Hana fired over the Porsche Tiger's engine deck. The shot hit a CV-33 and the tankette went up in smoke.

"So what now?" Saori asked. "We're just sitting here shooting, but we're not getting anywhere. Sooner or later we're going to get hit. Are we pushing through or what?"

"Kind of hard to push through in the first place when there's a disabled tank in the way," Mako drawled lazily.

Hana swiveled the turret back and forth, watching the sights for any potential targets. "All we need is to be able to land a shot on their flag tank. This gun can penetrate a Semovente anywhere."

A 47-millimeter shell from an M13/40 tore away some of the Schürzen from the Panzer IV's turret. The noise echoed loudly throughout the tank, causing everyone to clap their hands to their ears.

"Well, we can't just be sitting ducks either," Saori said. "We've already lost Rabbit Team, Duck Team, and now Shark Team. We have to do something, anything, otherwise they're going to whittle us down to nothing!"

"Enough," Miho commanded, silencing everyone. "We're going to take decisive action here. Here's what we'll do. Leopon Team is out, yes, but the Porsche Tiger is not long enough to completely block the road. We're going to squeeze around them and break through their lines. Anteater Team, you go first. We'll fire a smoke shell to cover you."

Taking that as a cue, Yukari grabbed a smoke shell from the ammunition racks and shoved it into the gun. Hana traversed the turret slightly to the left and fired the shell into the ground between the two forces, creating a thick white cloud that obscured everyone's view.

"All right!" Miho radioed. "Now!"

Anteater Team's Type 3 Chi-Nu wormed its way around the disabled Porsche Tiger, coming out into the open in front of the Anzio formation. Almost immediately it was struck by a wave of gunfire. It was as if the smoke shell had had no effect at all.

"They see the bottleneck and they're exploiting it!" Nekonya yelled over the radio, barely audible because of the din. "This isn't going to work, nya!"

"Calm down and keep pushing!" Miho called back. "Target the P40. It's probably their command tank. If we want to disrupt their formation and get to the flag tank, we're going to have to dismantle their chain of command from the top down."

The Chi-Nu stopped abruptly as more shells clanged off of its armor. Then the turret swiveled a little bit, stopping when the 75-millimeter main gun was aiming squarely at the P40's hull. At the same time, the P40 brought its armament to bear on Anteater Team. Everyone held their breath.

Two shots sounded. The air filled with smoke. When it cleared, both the Chi-Nu and the P40 lay disabled between the two forces, with their white flags protruding into the air from their turrets.

There was a momentary lull in the gunfire as the opposing teams planned their next moves. Taking advantage of this, Saori opened her hatch and peered out at the Anzio roadblock. Then she dropped back down into the hull, turning around in her seat to look at Miho. "Miporin," she said, her voice small. "Something's off here."

Hana finished Saori's thought. "There's an M13/40 that's unaccounted for. There were four at the start of this match. Now I only see three."

"And if Duck Team inadvertently revealed the trailhead to them..." Yukari's face went white.

Everything clicked at once in Miho's brain. "Then they sent it down the trail to attack us from behind. We need to move so we can meet the threat directly. Mako-san, please back—"

Her order to reverse came too late as Mallard Team, moving around behind them to get past the wreck of Leopon Team, blocked their path. Mako hit the brakes and the Panzer IV, effectively trapped, ground to a halt.

Miho grimaced in annoyance. "Mallard Team, please back up so we can clear. You're sandwiching us in."

No sooner had she said that then the Semovente da 75/46, still at the tip of Anzio's armored spear, knocked out the Char B1 bis with a direct hit to the turret, stopping them dead right behind the Panzer IV. Anglerfish Team, caught with a wreck in front, a wreck behind them, and operating a tank that was incapable of neutral turns, was stuck.

"Hippo Team, Turtle Team, I need you to defend the rear," Miho called, trying her best to sound commanding. "Just in case anything comes around from behind us. We're trapped and can't move."

"Roger!" Erwin replied. "Turning around now!" Her driver Oryou put the StuG III into a pivot turn, hoping to bring the gun around in time.

Hana tapped her leg. "Hippo Team's lost a track and can't turn around. It's all on Turtle Team now."

Miho looked through the viewports of her cupola and saw to her horror that the StuG III had been de-tracked just a few degrees shy of the proper position to make a difference. Another shell, lobbed from an enemy Semovente's howitzer, hit the back of the casemate and the white flag went up.

"Turtle Team," she radioed, shaking her head in frustration, "I hate putting pressure on you like this, but Hippo Team's out. I need you to take out the incoming enemy tank. Please don't miss this shot! You only have one chance, since reloading will take too long."

"W-we won't, Nishizumi-dono!" the small voice of the Hetzer's new freshman commander replied. "You can count on us!"

Suddenly there was a flash of movement behind the chaotic Ooarai formation. Amaretto's M13/40 appeared, racing up the road towards the trapped Panzer IV.

"Come on, Turtle Team, come on," Miho whispered. "Fire already! Take them out!"

As if in answer to her prayers, the Hetzer's gun spoke—but to her horror, the shell went wide of its target and knocked down some trees instead. Their reload could not possibly be fast enough to get in a second shot before Amaretto closed to point-blank range. It was up to Anglerfish Team to defend themselves now, and more specifically up to Hana to make their one shot count.

"Traverse right," Miho said. "They're going to try for our side armor. Let's hope we guessed correctly on which side it is."

The Panzer IV's turret swung slowly to the right, but it wasn't fast enough. Not that it would have mattered, since the M13/40 simply swerved to the left to get a shot at Anglerfish Team's defenseless left side.

"Traverse left," Miho ordered, her voice rising a little. "Get this shot off as fast as possible."

Hana slammed the traverse controls to the left, but the rotation was sluggish. The muzzle of the Panzer IV's 75-millimeter main gun inched its way around at a snail's pace, while the little Anzio marauder nuzzled up to their exposed flank and casually took aim.

A shell from the Semovente da 75/46 slammed into the Panzer IV, failing to penetrate the armor but rocking the vehicle violently. Because of the spinning movement of the turret coupled with the sudden rocking movement, Miho lost her balance and fell out of her seat, landing painfully on the floor of the turret basket. Everyone else in the tank looked at her in concern.

"Don't worry about me! Keep going!" she shouted from the floor. "Just take them out! That's all we can do!"

The Hetzer was backing up and then pulling forward in a tight left turn to bring its gun to bear on the M13/40. The driver seemed to be having a little trouble with the controls, as she did not seem to have the smoothness that Yuzu Koyama, the former driver for Turtle Team, had demonstrated the previous year.

Yukari slammed a shell into the breech and held her breath like everyone else.

A shot from the Anzio flag Semovente took out the Hetzer before it could open fire, ending Anglerfish Team's hope of rescue.

Then the M13/40 fired. The shell easily passed through the Panzer IV's side skirts and buried itself in the hull just as Hana was about to open fire. There was a pop as the white flag went up.

"The Ooarai Girls' Academy flag tank is unable to continue!" the judge's distant voice proclaimed over loudspeakers. "Anzio High School wins the match!"

Hana opened her escape hatch and gratefully gulped in fresh air. It was hot and stuffy inside the tank, and now that the shooting had stopped, there was complete freedom to get ventilation without the fear of a stray shell flying in.

Saori groaned. "Now we have to do that humiliating Anglerfish Dance again! Once was enough!"

Hana turned and smiled at her. "Remember that we did it during the Pravda match. It's not so bad if you don't compare it to a stint in the pillory."

"I know you're the Student Council president and all," Saori whined, "but couldn't we at least cut that part? I'll have to get a boyfriend sooner or later, and that's not going to speed things along at all!"

"It's staying in," Hana replied. "If anything, it's an incentive to win—not having to do the dance."

Saori pouted. "True. Not that I forgive our senpais for including it in the first place!"

Miho wordlessly picked herself up off the turret floor and climbed out of the tank, a blank expression on her face. Once her feet were on the ground, she started walking away.

"Miporin, come back!" Saori called after her. "Miporin!"

Miho remained silent and kept walking, swallowing a lump in her throat. Even with her best efforts, she had been defeated. She had failed. That was something that could not happen, not in the Nishizumi style.

Her glory days were past. The days of leading the Ooarai Girls' Academy to victory in battle after battle were gone. Like a dying lightbulb, she had shone brightly in the previous year's matches and then ceased to have any more to offer. It didn't matter that many of them worshipped her. They couldn't see the failure that she had become.

These thoughts raged in Miho Nishizumi's head as she walked, leaving her friends shaking their heads. She would not wait for the recovery crews to arrive. She would find her own way back, if only to convince herself that she could still do that much.

Miho had once found her own Sensha-dō, her joy, in the company of a colorful band of sisters. But the magic of that time was gone. Now she just wanted to be alone.

* * *

Back aboard the Ooarai school ship that evening, Azusa Sawa folded the form-fitting anglerfish costume neatly back up and threw it into her knapsack before heading back to her dorm. The Anglerfish Dance had indeed been just as humiliating and uncomfortable as she remembered. The trucks had paraded them around the entire ship doing that silly routine, which had left them all exhausted. Azusa thought of it like being paraded in front of a scornful mob on the way to the gallows. Regardless of whether or not the spectators were laughing at them, it was embarrassing all the same.

A pattern seemed to be emerging—whoever was in charge of the student council took a sort of sadistic pleasure in organizing such rituals. Hana Isuzu had some big shoes to fill despite her predecessor Anzu Kadotani's small size. Hopefully she could be as effective at her job as Anzu had been.

One person had been conspicuously absent from the flatbed trucks: Miho. She had vanished to her dorm upon returning to the ship and had not answered her phone or any texts since then. Rather than waste time trying to hunt her down, they had instead proceeded to grimly dance their hearts out and their dignity away.

Azusa had done very little during the match. In fact, Rabbit Team had done virtually nothing except move with everyone else, six mindless robots going through the motions. They had been little more than another piece of steel in the Ooarai lines, scarcely engaging the enemy at all. Then they had been knocked out early in the close-quarters firefight and that was that, having done little because little had been asked of them.

The whole thing reminded Azusa of Rabbit Team's first combat experience, in a training match against St. Gloriana in their first year. Under the relentless rain of fire from Darjeeling's advancing forces, the six girls had quickly lost their nerve and fled in terror, leaving their tank to be pummeled to pieces by incoming shells. After that incident, Azusa had sworn to never let something like that happen again, vowing to protect her friends. She would run away no longer.

But her dismal performance today was scarcely better. Standing her ground was all well and good, but it meant nothing unless she actually fought. A good tank commander would not simply allow her tank to be destroyed without offering resistance. Yet that was what not just Rabbit Team but all of Ooarai had done, lacking any initiative to do anything but play the enemy's game, a game that was rigged against them from the start.

Ooarai had formerly excelled in doing the unexpected. But what they had done that day was almost entirely predictable—too professional, too rigid, too dependent on the doctrine of the Nishizumi style. With the tanks they had, it simply didn't work. Anzio had taken a huge risk with their lure. But they had won because Miho had done exactly what they hoped. Azusa imagined that the Anzio girls must have been laughing giddily at the wild success of their trap the whole time. Ooarai had been anything but a worthy opponent.

Azusa's thoughts were interrupted by her her cell phone buzzing in her knapsack. She pulled it out and saw that it was a text from Yukari. _Please meet us in Saori-san's dorm ASAP,_ it said. _Emergency council regarding Nishizumi-dono._

"Emergency council?" Azusa queried to herself. She sent her reply: _On my way._

She shut off her phone, put it away, and started running as fast as she could towards Saori's dorm. Going home for the night would have to wait. The call of duty had sounded.

* * *

Saori, Hana, Yukari, and Mako were seated around the table in Saori's dorm when they heard Azusa knock on the door. "It's unlocked," Saori called. "Come in."

The door opened and Azusa entered, red-faced and sweaty from running. She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. "You wanted to see me? Something about Miho-senpai?"

"Yes," Hana said. "Have a seat. You look tired."

"Thanks." Azusa sat down on the sofa and Saori handed her a glass of water, which she gulped down gratefully. "So what in particular is going on? Any news?"

Hana glanced at Mako. "Mako-san, tell her."

Mako blinked. "We think she's suffering from a nervous breakdown."

"A nervous breakdown?" Azusa was shocked. "But she handled things so well last year!"

"Losing a family member can trigger one," Hana said. "The withdrawal from everyone, the disinterested manner…it all points to depression in particular. Then there was that incident with Taiga-san…well, it might be a little disrespectful to delve too deep into that, but I think you get the point. Smearing a person's name in the news is not how you help their state of mind."

Azusa pondered what Hana had said. "So that's why her combat performance was so bad. She wasn't paying attention because she couldn't. Am I getting it so far?"

"Pretty much," Hana replied. "She showed no flexibility today. Clearly it didn't work out so well."

"This might just be speculation," Saori piped up, "but ever since Maho-san died, I've noticed that Miporin's style has resembled her sister's more and more. Honoring her memory, maybe?"

"Consistently losing is no way to honor someone's memory," Mako said. "Especially not when you lose to Anzio. I can't imagine Miho-san wanting to put on an anglerfish costume and dance after that." Her voice lowered a little and she glanced in Hana's direction. "Well, actually, who would?"

Hana cleared her throat, returning Mako's gaze with an icy one of her own. "Long story short, Miho-san's not in a good place right now. She's probably feeling like she's all alone. I think we need to go and talk to her, just to let her know we're there for her. She needs to know that. And we know where to find her. Any objections? Questions?"

She scanned the other four girls in the room with her, all of whom sat in silence, thinking about what they were going to say. "No questions? Good. Let's go. The sooner, the better. No time can be wasted with interventions like this."

The five girls stood up to go. Just as they were about to leave, Azusa spoke up. "Um, Hana-senpai?"

Hana turned to the Rabbit Team commander. "Yes, Azusa-san?"

Azusa's eyes widened. The honorific caught her off guard. It was almost as if Hana regarded her as an equal. But she quickly refocused on what she wanted to ask. "When we get there…what can we expect to find?"

"Whatever it takes to talk to her. Even if we have to force her to listen, though mind you, we're going to have to do some listening ourselves. It's called an intervention for a reason."

"O-okay! Let's go, then."

With that, they left Saori's dorm and marched down the street, ready to do whatever they had to do in order to protect their beloved commander from herself. They had never given up on Miho Nishizumi and were certainly not going to abandon her now.

* * *

Miho was miserable. The moment she got back to her dorm, she had locked the door and flopped down on her bed, having neither the energy nor the motivation to get out there and join her teammates in the Anglerfish Dance. Besides, she'd had enough embarrassment for one day. Anzio wasn't even a powerhouse school, and yet they had still managed to defeat the winners of the 63rd National High School Sensha-dō Tournament. If she was still at Kuromorimine, the shame of that alone would have killed her.

She spent the next hour or so trying to meditate, a futile effort to suppress the torture that her mind was inflicting on her soul. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get past the fact that she had failed. She had done everything right, and yet somehow it was still wrong. Eventually she gave up on meditation and ended up pacing agitatedly back and forth in her room, muttering angrily to herself with little to no coherence.

Then suddenly a fit of rage came over her, and she grabbed one of the stuffed Boko bears off her bed and hurled it at the wall with all her might. It bounced off, landing at her feet.

Miho picked it up and was about to throw it again when suddenly she stopped, turning it over gingerly with her shaking fingers. She remembered what the entire premise of Boko was—never giving up despite being beaten. She had succeeded by never giving up. And as long as she did that she would never let her team down.

But her teammates, wonderful though they were, were not everything. Any other commander with nothing to lose would have shrugged off the loss as an opportunity to learn from her mistakes. Miho, however, had much more at stake—she was the only one left who could carry on the Nishizumi name. With that came the burdens of the style and all it stood for. That burden was supposed to fall on Maho's shoulders—all her life she had been prepared for it, giving up her dreams so that the hearts and minds of girls everywhere could be opened to the way of the Nishizumi style.

Then Maho had died and suddenly Miho was left alone, completely unprepared to take on her sister's mission. She had hopes, she had dreams, and none of them included following in the footsteps of Shiho Nishizumi and those who came before her. She had initiative, that was true, but she lacked the iron will that had been instilled into Maho from an early age. It had been her undoing as the vice-commander of Kuromorimine's Sensha-dō team, and now she had allowed herself to be thrown out of the family on Shiho's irrational whim. She had lain on the ground and allowed the world to steamroll her. Quite simply, she was not the right kind of person for the Nishizumi style.

While pacing around, Miho had migrated into the bathroom. Noticing this, she decided that she had had enough of pacing uselessly. She would take a shower, much-needed after a match. Her clothes were filthy and smelled like a vile mixture of gunpowder, oil, and sweat. Unlike most of the Ooarai tankers, she had not bothered to change out of her Sensha-dō uniform upon arriving back aboard the ship. It had been the last thing on her mind. But now she began to wonder: was that lack of attention to detail just another sign of how far she had fallen?

"Shut up," she muttered to herself. "Don't even go there."

The sound of her voice surprised her. At the same time, it scared her. Normal, sane people did not talk to themselves. But surely an exception must be made for someone who had recently lost her sister?

Then the question hit her: was she even sane? It would be horrible if the Ooarai Sensha-dō team was being led by someone who was out of her mind. Perhaps Taiga Ou's headlines had been correct—she was no longer fit to command. She would do well to step down and give someone else control, like Azusa or Hana.

But she couldn't, not yet. Azusa was too inexperienced, too innocent, to have command of an entire team thrust into her hands. Hana, on the other hand, was so happy doing what she was doing, and the added stress of being everyone's leader in combat would shatter that. She couldn't do that to a friend.

So now Miho was faced with two irreconcilable facts: she was not fit to lead, yet she was the only person who could. Her team adored her, yet she abhorred herself.

Abhorred herself...

She turned on the water and felt the temperature of the shower with her hand. It was cold. She sighed and waited for it to warm up a little bit. But it did not. The water remained as cold as ever. There would be no comfort in this shower, just pins and needles of ice.

Miho sighed. Maybe this was what she got for failing. The Nishizumi style was cold, it was painful, but it offered a sort of consistency that she had rejected. Every time she closed her eyes she could see the stony face of Shiho Nishizumi, glaring at her sternly and steadily. There was no running in the Nishizumi style because there was no running from the Nishizumi style. It was pointless.

Miho took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped under the ice-cold shower. She shivered as the water ran over her body, chilling her to the bone. Had the water been hot it might have had a therapeutic effect. But instead it just made her more miserable.

She remembered something Maho had once told her in confidence. Shiho Nishizumi had come to watch Ooarai's battles at first, but it was not to cheer them on. It was because she wanted to watch Miho's way fail. She wanted to see her younger daughter's insult to the Nishizumi style be put down once and for all so she could finalize disowning her. Well, those expectations had finally been met. Miho had failed just like her mother had predicted so long ago.

_Do you know this saying?_ the faint voice of Darjeeling queried in her head. _Those whom the gods would destroy, they first make proud._ Too true, Miho thought. She had built a team from the ground up and saved a school. She had defied the odds a second time against the university team. But now, a cruel twist of fate had left Maho dead and gotten Miho disowned, for good this time. And by allowing it to happen she was destroying herself.

The shower had still not warmed up at all. It was just as chilly and uncomfortable as before. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. In lieu of the Anglerfish Dance she would freeze. There was no such thing as a victory in her life, only the setup to make the misery that followed even worse.

Miho started to cry. She was not normally one to shed tears, but after all she had fought through, she could contain herself no longer, sobbing in frustration in the tepid solace of the shower. She slid down against the wall, too weak in the knees to stay standing.

She cried for Maho, who had given up all her hopes and dreams so that Miho could have hers, only to have her sacrifice go to waste. She cried for her mother, who was too blinded by grief to be there when Miho needed her the most. She cried for her teammates, who were all blissfully unaware of the pain and suffering she had to endure as the last remaining tanker to bear the surname of Nishizumi. And she cried for herself, weary and useless.

Many people had offered their condolences since Maho had died—too many, in fact—but it was just words. No one knew what it was like to be reminded of a fatal mistake at every turn. No one gave any sign that they understood, or that they even cared. She was simply expected to be able to take it, just like she always had. But now she had had enough. She was sick of the burden, sick of the pain, sick of being locked into something she was not cut out for, sick of Sensha-dō, sick of being a Nishizumi. But what was the alternative? Miho was tired of everything that made her who she was—put simply, she was sick of living. Even Boko, perseverant as he was, had to draw the line somewhere.

People would tell her she had put the burden on herself. They would be right, and Miho knew that. But what none of them knew was how impossible it was to set that burden down. She had reached the point where she could no longer go on.

Miho slowly picked herself up, shut off the water, got out of the shower, and made her way over to the sink. She looked in the mirror, which was perfectly clear because the shower had been too cold to create any steam. The face staring back at her was listless and tear-stained, defeated after a years-long struggle. The flame she had once seen in her eyes had been snuffed out long ago. There was nothing that she could see that would bring it back.

It was then, staring at her reflection in the mirror, that Miho Nishizumi decided to take her own life. The thought had nagged at her for a long time, a faint voice in her ear, but now it was screaming at her, offering the only hope of release. Besides, as the history club would tell her any day, seppuku or some other form of suicide was the honorable way for a great warrior to handle defeat.

"I'm sorry, Oka-sama, Onee-chan," Miho whispered. "I've failed you. Please forgive me."

Her eyes fell upon the outlet just above the counter. As a little girl she had been warned countless times never to stick her fingers in an electrical socket. But it would be a quick way to go. A powerful electric current would go coursing through her body and stop her heart. In one stroke she would free herself of her pain and cease to be a burden to her friends. She had only to find some object to stick into the socket, and her suffering would be over at last.

Miho reached into her drawer and pulled out a pair of stainless steel nail clippers. Flipping the lever outwards, she seized the metal body of the clippers in one hand and moved the extended lever slowly towards one slit in the outlet, then whispered her goodbyes and shut her eyes, fingers trembling, waiting for the end to come.

* * *

Hana, Saori, Yukari, Mako, and Azusa arrived at Miho's door, and Yukari knocked. "Nishizumi-dono? Are you all right?"

There was no answer.

"Come on, open the door. We just want to talk. We want to listen. Nothing more."

Still there was silence.

"That's it," Hana said. "Let's try another way in." She pulled two paperclips out and fiddled with them for a moment, fashioning a rudimentary pick and tension wrench from the wire. Then she inserted them into the lock, and within seconds, it turned.

"Where'd you learn to pick locks, Hana-senpai?" Azusa asked. "That's a burglar skill!"

"I taught her," Mako mumbled. "Not hard to find a tutorial online."

"Oh," Azusa said, feeling dumb. "Well, shall we go in?"

Hana turned the doorknob and entered Miho's dorm, then beckoned to the other four to follow her. They all filed in, and were surprised to find that despite the lamp on the nightstand casting a glow over the room, Miho was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd she go?" Saori exclaimed. "I thought she was here!"

"Shh," Hana said, putting a finger to her lips. "Look."

It was then that they noticed the bathroom door. It was closed, but there was light coming from the crack underneath.

"So she's in there," Yukari said with a sigh of relief. "I was wondering."

"How about we say hello?" Saori said. "She needs to know we're here."

"Isn't this a bit creepy, though?" Azusa piped up. "Sneaking into her room like this?"

"If this is what it takes, then so be it," Hana replied. She strode towards the closed bathroom door and opened her mouth to speak. "Miho-san—"

Suddenly there was a loud popping noise from within the bathroom and the lights went out. Then there was a thudding sound.

"Nishizumi-dono?" Yukari cried. "Nishizumi-dono?!"

She brushed past Hana in a panic and kicked in the bathroom door, flipping on the lights. What she found horrified her.

Miho was lying naked and motionless on the bathroom floor, soaking wet from the shower. There was a pair of nail clippers with the lever stuck into an outlet, and there was a charred patch on that part of the wall. Miho's right palm was badly burned to match.

"She's not breathing!" Yukari shouted. "Call an ambulance!"

"What happened?" Hana asked. "Did she—"

"Just get an ambulance!" Yukari snapped as she knelt beside Miho and began chest compressions. "She shocked herself!"

Saori pulled out her phone and retreated outside the room to make the call. In the meantime, the rest of them stood around and watched as Yukari furiously attempted CPR.

"Come on, Nishizumi-dono, stay with me!" she grunted as she continued chest compressions. "You've come this far, Nishizumi-dono! Don't die on me now!"

Azusa watched the scene before her in horror. Yukari was working hard to save Miho's life while Saori called an ambulance. Mako was just staying well out of the way while Hana worked with Yukari. And Azusa herself was doing nothing. She didn't know what to do. A feeling of helplessness washed over her. She was not trained in CPR and had never had to call emergency services before. Here, she was just another scared kid desperately hoping Miho would wake up. It infuriated her.

At length she stepped away from the bathroom door and sat down on Miho's bed. She had a number of questions, but they would have to wait. Right now the most important thing was to save Miho Nishizumi's life, pulling her back from the jaws of death that she had clamped down on herself, as they waited for help to arrive.


	8. Chapter 8

Miho was disoriented. She must have been asleep for some time, since she remembered nothing between returning to her dorm room and ending up where she was now. Her surroundings now were different and unfamiliar to her, and she had no clue how she had gotten there.

She was standing in the middle of an expansive, rolling field that stretched for miles in all directions. A snow-capped mountain loomed in the distance with its base padded by dense forests. An unpaved road passed in front of her and disappeared from view in either direction, curving behind a hedge to the left and going over the crest of a ridge to the right.

The grass was tall, coming up past Miho's knees. She squatted down and touched her hand to it. Grass seeds came away with her fingers. She shook her hand and watched the seeds fall back to the earth, disappearing into the stalks waving gently in the cool breeze.

The sun was bright, warming her face, while the gentle wind kept it from being oppressive. It was balmy and comfortable, such perfect weather as Miho had never experienced before. She sat down in the tall grass and closed her eyes, letting the sunlight soak into her face. There was no pain, no discomfort, only a strangely glorious silence.

A distant sound disturbed her. It was a familiar roar that she couldn't quite place, coming from somewhere to her right, its exact source hidden by the gently rolling terrain. Curious, she stood up and began to walk toward the sound.

After walking a little ways, no more than fifty meters, she found herself atop a ridge overlooking a valley. She could see a distant cloud of dust moving slowly along a road that bisected the valley along its length. As she peered at the dust cloud, it turned and began to drift towards her, allowing her to make out the shape of a tank at its head.

Miho stared at it hard, not sure why she was seeing what she was seeing. "Huh? A tank?"

The roar of the tank's engine, the sound she had heard earlier, grew louder as it approached. Miho took a seat on the grass and watched it draw nearer, trying to identify what type of tank it was but with little success. Yukari would have been able to tell from the noise alone, but alas, Yukari was not here.

At length she discerned that it had a boxy shape. Closer inspection revealed a much rounder turret, the telltale sign of a Tiger I.

"Just like Onee-chan's tank," Miho mused, frowning a little. Why did everything have to remind her of her sister? Was this some elaborate, twisted prank? But she quickly banished the thought to the far corners of her mind. It got lost too quickly as she continued watching the approaching behemoth with intense fascination.

The engine sound was now at a fever pitch as the tank climbed up the slope in front of Miho, settling down into the Tiger's distinctive slight rearward lean. Its 88-millimeter main cannon was slightly elevated, giving it an extremely imposing look as it cast a shadow over her.

The Tiger I then turned sideways, bringing its markings into view. Miho was surprised to see that, in addition to the overall dark yellow paint job, the side of the hull had a black Iron Cross with white trim like she had seen all over the place during her days at Kuromorimine, and the kanji writing on it—

_Wait a minute,_ Miho thought, her eyes narrowing. _That doesn't say—does it?_

Indeed, it was the Kuromorimine logo. Miho was dumbfounded. Somehow her old school had managed to find her. If this wasn't a bizarre twist of fate, then she didn't know what was.

But what shocked her the most was not the logo on the hull, but rather the number on the side of the turret. The number 212 stood out in large red digits against the plain background. This was, without a doubt, Maho Nishizumi's tank. Miho looked away, blinking hard in an effort to snap herself out of whatever hallucination she was having.

_There must be some mistake! That tank was put away for storage after the funeral! It was the subject of an article in the Ooarai newspaper a few weeks back, wasn't it? So how is it—_

"Miho."

The voice stopped her thoughts dead. Looking up, she saw that the commander's hatch was open and Maho Nishizumi, dressed in a Kuromorimine Sensha-dō uniform, was gazing at her with a warm smile.

Miho stared at her blankly. This apparition made no sense to her whatsoever. Maho was dead and gone, and had been for some time. Surely this was just the product of her tortured mind seeking firm ground.

But then Maho spoke again, softly calling her name once more. "Miho."

"O—Onee-chan?" Miho whispered, secretly hoping that her senses were not deceiving her. "What—"

"It's me," Maho answered, effortlessly climbing up out of the hatch and jumping to the ground. "Come on." She opened her arms and began to walk towards Miho, an aura of utter calmness surrounding her.

A wave of emotions washed over Miho. Here she was, being reunited with her sister. Even after everything that had happened, Maho Nishizumi had not abandoned her. In this strange place, the two were together again.

Miho had never been one to let her emotions get the better of her, as there was always a rationale for everything she had known. But now that was being tested. Maho was dead, yet she was alive. It made no sense, yet happiness was just one suspension of disbelief away. She decided to test it one more time.

"Onee-chan?" she said, trying to get a hold of herself. "Is it really you?"

"Yes," Maho replied simply. "It's really me."

At this, Miho Nishizumi's knees went weak. An exuberant shout bubbled up inside her, but words failed her as they so often had. Instead, she just sprinted towards Maho, then collapsed into her sister's arms, sobbing with joy and relief as Maho stroked her hair.

For a long time they remained there, motionless. Miho, sniffling softly into Maho's jacket, couldn't believe what was happening. All that she had suffered had evidently been worth it so she could see her sister again. Maho had always been a bastion of strength, and having that taken from her had been too much to bear. But the embrace made her whole again. It healed her.

After a while, Maho finally spoke. "Do you know what this place is?"

Miho stopped crying and looked up. She had been so distracted that she had completely forgotten about that. Now her curiosity was back. "Well? Where are we?"

"Elysium."

Miho blinked. "Elysium? As in Elysian Fields?"

Maho nodded. "This is eternity."

"Wait…so I'm dead?" Miho suddenly wasn't sure what to think. On one hand, If she was dead, she would always be with Maho. On the other hand, if she was truly dead, it carried a terrible permanence.

Maho's answer surprised her. "No."

"What do you mean, no? How can I be here if I'm not dead?"

Maho raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember?"

Miho struggled to remember. She remembered losing the practice match against Anzio, then spending long, unhappy hours in her dorm. She remembered the cold shower. And then she remembered: she had taken nail clippers and stuck them in an outlet to kill herself_._

She looked questioningly at Maho. "You're telling me I _survived_ that?"

"Yes. Right now, you are unconscious in a hospital bed, surrounded by the friends you would have abandoned had your attempt succeeded." Maho stared into Miho's eyes, piercing the depths of her soul. "Had it not been for them, you would not have survived. They saved your life. You owe them."

Miho's cheeks burned with shame. She had never meant to place such a heavy burden upon her teammates, nor leave herself so deeply in their debt, for the sake of relieving her own suffering. In one foolish move, one colossally irresponsible and selfish move, she had done both.

Maho went on. "You're a legend, Miho. Don't make yourself into another fallen star."

Miho had never really thought of herself as anything more than a commander doing what had to be done. She had had many failures along the way, just like any other commander. There was nothing particularly remarkable that she could think of about herself. She blinked. "Legend?"

Maho cleared her throat. "Many commanders know how to win the match, but few know how to win their team. You, on the other hand..." She paused, thinking about her next words.

Miho fumbled for something to say, seeing the impending scolding in Maho's eyes. "Onee-chan, I—"

"Don't. Just listen." Maho laid her hand on Miho's shoulder and looked deep into her eyes. "You shouldn't surrender just because of something that happened. Live to fight another day, as they say."

"But I can't just leave you—"

Maho bowed her head, closing her eyes. "You've never left anyone behind. When the Panzer III slid into the water, you went to save the crew. We lost the match that day, but that was nothing compared to what we would have lost had you let them drown. And whenever all seemed lost, you rallied your friends to dig down deep and pull through. That takes a kind of fortitude that I've never seen from anyone else."

Miho blushed. "Well, I guess I've lost it…I'm here, after all…I wish…I wish you were still alive, Onee-chan. So many things have gone wrong since you died. It was just fine the way it was before!" She hugged Maho tightly, her voice beginning to break

"Believe me, I know," Maho said. "Out of hardship comes strength. You know that as well as anyone."

"But why all this?" Miho blurted out, trying to keep her composure but losing it despite her best efforts. "Why did you have to die? Why did all that have to happen? How could any of that be necessary?"

"My time came," Maho said flatly. "Someday yours will too, but not yet. You'll live to fight another day."

She fell silent, noticing that Miho had stopped listening and her grip had loosened. "What's the matter?"

"Your wrist," Miho said. "What's that bracelet doing there?"

Maho looked at her left wrist, contemplating a heavy stainless steel ring around it. She rubbed at it with her fingers and gave a dismissive wave. "Oh, that. I forgot it was there."

"But what is it?" Miho's voice was rising. "You've never worn anything like that before!"

"It is symbolic, nothing more."

"Symbolic of what? It looks like it came from handcuffs!"

Maho chuckled, but there was a slight pained look in her eyes. "While I was alive, I only did things one way, locking myself into a path that wasn't my own," she explained. "What I knew and practiced of the Nishizumi style was only one way of looking at it. So let it be a warning: don't do that. Don't imprison yourself like I did. By finding your own way you find freedom. I watched you achieve that, Miho. What you did is not heresy; far from it. Rather, it is the best thing ever to happen to the Nishizumi style."

Miho looked confused. "But they always said my way was—"

"Advance without falter, iron rules and a heart of steel. The Nishizumi style is a way of life. Never allow yourself to be daunted. It doesn't take a wall of heavy tanks to do that. It's not even restricted to Sensha-dō. You've always lived by that, even when you went against the way you were taught."

Maho paused for a moment. "We must often make sacrifices for victory, but who we are should not be one of them. Don't wallow. Strength breeds strength. If your teammates see that you are strong, it will encourage them to be strong as well."

Miho was still having difficulty getting her mind off the bracelet. "That metal thing…it's not too uncomfortable, is it?"

"I'm fine." Maho seemed less than interested in dwelling on it. "Now go, make me proud. My life is but a memory. Yours has just begun. Remember that."

"Onee-chan…"

"What are you waiting for, Miho? Show the world how a Nishizumi lives." Maho's face was radiant. "If you shoot, you hit; if you advance, you advance without falter. Iron rules, a heart of steel. You know those words well. Don't stop for me. It's your turn. Make me proud."

She turned and headed back to her tank, but stopped suddenly. "That vice commander of yours—Azusa Sawa," she called over her shoulder. "Teach her well. Your legacy begins with her." Then she climbed up, dropped down into the open commander's hatch, and called in a loud voice, _"Panzer marsch!"_

"W-wait, Onee-chan!" Miho cried as the roar of the Tiger I's engine grew louder. "Don't go! There's still a lot I want to talk about!"

Maho, unable to hear her over the noise, turned and waved. "Till we meet again!" she called over the din. Then her tank began to accelerate and the cloud of dust in its wake soon hid it from sight.

As Miho stood there, alone on the ridge once again, she found herself staring off into the distance. The sun was shining in her face, yet it was strangely comfortable. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"Maybe you're right, Onee-chan," she murmured to no one in particular. "Maybe this is only the beginning."

As soon as she said this, the wind around her began to pick up to hurricane intensity. A brilliant light shone all around her, and she felt her feet leaving the ground.

For a moment confusion set in. She hung motionless, not falling yet not on solid ground, with no frame of reference. Her sense of balance was completely gone, but that seemed to have no impact on anything.

But once she was suspended in this curious limbo, a familiar voice saying her name filled her ears. It was distant at first, but as it repeated itself many times over it became more present, more real.

"Miporin!"

* * *

Hana hummed to herself as she placed a vase containing a small arrangement of flowers on the nightstand in Miho's hospital room. It hadn't been her highest-effort arrangement ever, but it was an opportunity to use her tank vase. The flowers in it seemed to give off a youthful vibrance, according to Saori, but in reality they were just the first ones she thought to include before throwing it together in a hurry because she nearly forgot. It didn't matter anyway; if Miho was unconscious, she wouldn't be looking at the flowers anytime soon.

She looked over Saori's shoulder as the ginger-haired girl leaned over Miho's slumbering form, propped up limp on the bed with a bandaged hand and a sign above her head warning to avoid disturbing her too much while her ribs were healing. Yukari's chest compressions had resulted in a couple broken ribs, but nothing too serious. Her heart had been successfully restarted, and that was what mattered. The ribs would heal on their own.

Suddenly Saori's ears perked up and she looked at Hana suddenly. "I think she's waking up. Get the others in here. Hey, Miporin!" She was now speaking excitedly to Miho, whose eyes were beginning to flutter open.

Hana went out into the hallway to retrieve Yukari and Mako, who were taking a nap on a bench. Mako, in her lethargy, had fallen asleep leaning on Yukari's shoulder, and Yukari had in turn nodded off waiting for her to wake up.

She shook them out of their sleep. "Miho-san's awake."

"Awake?" Yukari was fully alert within seconds. "Come on, Reizei-dono, let's go. We've got to be there for her."

"Ugh," Mako groaned, snuggling into Yukari's shoulder. "I'm tired. Just a few more minutes."

"No," Hana said. "She's awake now. Don't lag behind. She crouched down, hooked her arms under Mako's armpits, and stood up straight, pulling the sleepy and uncooperative girl to her feet.

"Hey!" Mako whined. "Watch it!" She was groggy and cranky after spending the entire night asleep like that.

Hana chuckled. "You're just like your grandmother, Reizei-san."

At this, Mako's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to give Hana a tongue-lashing of protest, but no words came. She sighed in defeat, then slouched into Miho's hospital room, leaving Mako and Yukari in the hallway.

"In her defense," Yukari observed, "she didn't exactly scold you for saying that."

"I suppose that proves me wrong, but who knows? Perhaps scolding is something she'll learn when she gets older."

"I can hear you, you know," Mako called from within the room. "Get in here. She's opening her eyes."

"See?" Hana said with a smile. "She really is like her grandmother."

Yukari chuckled, then followed Hana in.

Saori was turning Miho's bandaged hand over in her own, motherly as always in her concern. She looked Miho in the eye sternly. "You could have died, Miporin. Don't do that to me!"

"Who else is here?" Miho murmured. She was still groggy and her voice was faint.

"All your closest friends are here," Saori replied. "Azusa-san had to go—"

"Azusa-san?" Miho interrupted, taking a deep breath in as she got her bearings but wincing as the pain from her broken ribs forced her to resort to shallower breathing. "She was here?"

Saori nodded. "She was with us when you electrocuted yourself. We found you just in time."

"Just seconds after you did it!" Yukari butted in, with maybe a little too much liveliness in her voice, eager to make her presence known to Miho, but Saori turned and glared at her as if to say, _Not here, Yukarin, not here._ Yukari blushed and sheepishly withdrew, leaving Saori to continue.

Miho smiled. "Thanks for worrying about me, I guess," she murmured.

An expression of horror crossed Saori's face. "That's what you always say when you run the risk of dying! Don't you learn, Miporin?"

Hana put a hand on Saori's shoulder, and she could feel the tension going out under her fingers as she did so. "Calm down, Saori-san. What's important is that we're here now."

"True, I guess," muttered Saori. "I guess it's just like love…wait…how was I going to tie that in again…sorry, my memory just died on me for some reason instead of Miporin."

Miho laughed softly, her face twisting abruptly with pain as the laughter disturbed her ribs. "I'm glad to see that no one's changed at all while I was out. And I think I might need some painkillers here."

There was a moment's silence as the girls pondered how to respond to that, especially considering Miho's recent suicidal state. Mako spoke up first. "You know, I'm surprised."

Saori turned to look at her. "Surprised?"

"Yeah, surprised." Mako slowly stood up from the chair where she had plopped herself down. "I'd have thought you'd be all down in the mouth. Instead you're…well…not."

There was a murmur as the other girls in the room began to realize that Mako was right. Yukari was the first to speak. "Well, it's great to see that Nishizumi-dono is in good spirits, especially after something like that!"

Miho looked at her blankly. "It's not like I'm magically feeling better."

"Oh." Yukari looked disappointed. "I'm glad you're alive, at least. Live to fight another day!"

A faraway look entered Miho's eyes as she recalled Maho saying those exact words. "I guess so."

"So, about those painkillers…" Saori said. "I'm sure they'll monitor you closely with those. They're not going to just let you overdose on pain meds, you know."

"That wasn't my intention," Miho murmured, "but okay."

Saori leaned in close. "Yeah, Miporin. Like I already said, don't do that again. We're your friends. We're here for you. Even without your sister we're still here."

Miho smiled. "Thank you guys for being here." She scratched an itch on her face, wincing a little from the pain in her ribs. "Life is so beautiful…"

"Huh?" Saori queried. "What?"

"Nothing," Miho replied simply. "Just thinking out loud."

* * *

Darkness had fallen by the time the girls of Rabbit Team besides Azusa reached the hospital. A series of delays had precluded them from getting a timely flight to the mainland, but they had arrived nonetheless. They found Miho in reasonably good spirits, surrounded by the rest of Anglerfish Team as well as Azusa, who had returned from her errands—most of which were centered around arranging a flight for her crew.

Above all, they were delighted to see Saori. They had matured somewhat since joining the team, but still, spending a day in uncertainty without the mother figure they loved so much had been taxing. The Sensha-dō team and the Student Council had both been in disarray since the practice match the day before, temporarily deprived of their leadership by Miho's hospitalization. Amid the mess, Tsuchiya, the only member of Leopon Team left over from the previous year, had taken control of the maintenance efforts, directing the team's energy towards repairing their tanks. When they had finished with the structural repairs, every one of the girls had finally come to understand the ordeal that the automotive club went through every time there was a match. They had also vowed never to do that again.

"Hey, Saori-senpai!" Karina and Aya exclaimed as they entered Miho's hospital room. "We missed you!"

"Shh!" Saori admonished, pointing to Miho, who was sound asleep in her bed. "Don't wake her up, she needs rest!"

"Sorry," the two girls mumbled, nearly in unison. Then they looked to Azusa, who had turned to face them. Saori nodded, and Azusa briefed her friends on what had happened to Miho.

"Sorry to put it so bluntly, and sorry for not telling you all the details earlier, but Nishizumi-senpai tried to electrocute herself last night. We found her on the bathroom floor. I'm just grateful we found her when we did."

"She'll be okay, right?" Aya looked concerned.

Saori nodded. "She should be fine."

Aya's expression relaxed a little. "Well, that's good news. How long is she supposed to be here?"

Azusa and Saori looked at each other. Saori spoke first. "A few days at the most. I think it'll be a little while before she's back to normal, but it's better than her being dead."

"Amen to that," Mako mumbled from across the room.

There was a momentary pause as the girls of Rabbit Team contemplated Mako's presence in the room with them, then turned their attention back to Saori. "Well," Aya said, "I'm glad she'll be back before long. The team was practically falling apart without her."

Azusa raised an eyebrow. "We really do need her…but do we depend on her a little too much?"

The girls of Rabbit Team looked at each other, somewhat alarmed by this realization. Saori studied her shoes. The other members of Anglerfish Team didn't seem to be listening at all, since they were either asleep like Miho or too absorbed in other things to notice.

In the silence, Saki stepped forward and approached Miho's bedside. She looked at the flower arrangement Hana had put on the nightstand earlier. Her face seemed to light up as she leaned in for a closer look.

"What is it, Saki-chan?" Saori inquired. "Something you noticed?"

In response, Saki reached for the vase and drew one of the flowers out, a chrysanthemum,, tucking its stem behind Miho's ear as if it was pinned to her hair. Saori chuckled lightly. "You might not want to do that…Hana-san worked hard on that arrangement."

Hearing her name, Hana snapped out of whatever daze she had been in. Her eyes darted around the room, and she noticed the flower in Miho's hair that corresponded with a missing chrysanthemum from her arrangement. She stood up, mildly irked by this, but closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Whatever you do, please don't disturb Miho-san," she said to Saki as she walked over and undid the younger girl's little cosmetic modification. "I don't mind the flower being out of the vase—I can always replace it no problem—but let her sleep."

Saki retreated slowly with her usual lack of any expression on her face, then went and hid behind Ayumi, all without saying a word. Saori spoke up in protest. "Hana-san, it's harmless! It's not like she's poking Miporin's eye out or anything!"

"Life isn't all fun and games, Saori-san," Hana said. "Anyone who goes to Ooarai knows that. I just want Miho-san to get well as soon as possible."

"Same!" Karina said. "We all do!"

"And me!" Yuuki piped up.

Azusa smiled, slightly embarrassed by Yuuki's obliviously redundant exclamation. "Karina just said that, you know."

"Oh," Yuuki said, looking disappointed.

On the other side of the room, Mako stood up. "She hadn't been asleep for long when you guys showed up, so if you want to talk to her, you've got a while to wait before she wakes up. Why don't you guys go back and get some rest? It'll do you a lot of good."

Saori looked at Mako, then at the Rabbit Team girls, who were all looking at her. She nodded. "What Mako-san said. Get some sleep. We need to be well-rested to deal with all this."

"Right," Azusa said. "Come on, let's go. Let's not disturb Nishizumi-senpai's sleep for any longer." Then she opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

As the girls of Rabbit Team left the room, Hana, Mako, and Saori huddled together, speaking in hushed whispers while Yukari snored in a chair. "So what are we going to do?" Saori said. "Hana-san, any ideas? You're the Student Council president."

Hana thought for a moment. "I'll tell Azusa-san, first thing in the morning. She needs to take over as interim commander. It's part of the vice-commander's job description."

There was a pause before Hana smiled. "Now, if Yukari-san was awake, she would be able to fulfill her duties as the Student Council vice president." There was a little laugh at this from Mako and Saori.

The three girls returned to silently watching Miho sleep, worried about the uphill battle that lay ahead. They would have to take complete control, something they were not used to doing. It would not be easy, but the flame of Ooarai's success would not be put out by Miho's attempt to snuff her own.

* * *

While Miho was in the hospital, the first round of the 64th National High School Sensha-dō Tournament was under way, with the first match of the bracket between St. Gloriana Girls' College and Pravda Girls' High School. It was somewhat unusual for two powerhouse schools to clash in the first round, but it was just luck of the draw. Two rookie overall commanders were going head to head today—from St. Gloriana, Orange Pekoe, and from Pravda, Nina—both of them second-years carrying on the torch from their widely respected predecessors.

The battle had stalled. Orange Pekoe's Churchill and its escort of four Matildas were all pinned down in a trench, unable to do much damage to the numerous Pravda tanks preventing them from escaping. For as strong as their armor was, infantry tanks suffered from the serious problem of being underpinned, and in this situation, the trench was preventing them from turning their strongest armor towards the enemy.

"This is bad, Pekoe-san!" Rukuriri exclaimed over the radio as suppressive fire from Pravda's main force landed all around the trench and bounced off their turrets. "We're surrounded and the Crusaders are still a long way out! We're sitting ducks!"

Pekoe took a sip of her tea, sloshing as the shockwaves from shell impacts rippled through the Churchill, then pressed the button to talk on her radio handset. "Be patient, Rukuriri-san. You can count on Rosehip."

"What's that supposed to mean? We're trapped and the enemy's closing in with everything they've got, and now you want us to wait? Besides, we should have brought the Centurions! Those might actually give us a chance here!" Rukuriri sounded frantic and rather annoyed.

"Not yet," Pekoe said. "The world does not yet know that we have those. They're our secret weapon. Only Grandmaster Shimada knows of them, and I doubt she would inform the rest of the world unless we specifically told her she could."

Rukuriri was getting impatient. "The only thing a Crusader has going for it is speed! Weak armor, weak gun, poor rate of climb, outclassed by what we could be fielding instead!"

The voice of Rosehip over the radio interrupted Pekoe before she could reply. "Enemy IS-3 is down. Not knocked out, but it's not going anywhere any time soon, desu wa." Nina had deployed a recently restored IS-3 and an ISU-152 in addition to the standard IS-2 fielded by Pravda, but Pekoe knew well that the upgrades did not make her team invincible. For every advantage gained, there would be drawbacks. In the case of late-war Soviet heavy tanks, they suffered

"Good," Pekoe replied. "How far out are you from our position?"

"Estimating about thirty seconds desu wa!"

"Any sign of a rear guard?"

Two shots sounded over the radio. "Not anymore desu wa! Two enemy T-34s disabled!"

Pekoe looked down at her crew, a twinkle in her eye. "It seems Pravda forgot how the exhibition match last year against Ooarai and Chi-Ha-Tan went." Then she picked up the radio again. "Scatter them, if you please. We're coming out of the trench."

"Wh-what?" Rukuriri was incredulous. "They can still hit us! You're the flag tank, you know!"

"I should probably clarify," Pekoe said, her face hardening into a malevolent smile and her voice turning from silk to steel. "All Matildas will be emerging from the trench. The Churchill will be staying put. Distract them from the Crusaders."

"That's insane! We'll all just get taken down!"

"Zigzag, Rukuriri-san, zigzag. Your tanks may be slow, but I assure you, Pravda will have bigger fish to fry than two-pounders hitting them from the front."

Rukuriri took a deep breath. "All right! All Matildas, follow me! We're going over the top!"

As she said this, her tank turned and climbed up the side of the trench facing towards Pravda. The other three Matildas did likewise. No sooner had they all cleared the top than Nilgiri's tank was struck by a shot from the ISU-152 and knocked backwards into the trench, its white flag popping up.

"All right, Rosehip-san!" Pekoe yelled, switching her mind to the other part of the plan. "Now!"

The Crusaders' six-pounder guns roared all at once as they plunged into the heart of the Pravda force. Then they turned and began to drive straight into the clusters of tanks that were attempting to flee, firing wildly.

"Waste no rounds! Make every shot count!" Pekoe was enjoying the sight as the Crusaders wrought havoc across the field, skillfully dodging every attempt at return fire. Their recent training in the Shimada style was beginning to pay off.

The Matildas rumbled towards the melee, but as they did so, the IS-2 and a T-34/85 emerged from the chaos to block their path. Nina and Alina, Pravda's commander and vice-commander respectively, were attempting to salvage the match, trying to disable St. Gloriana's flag tank before their own was taken out in the mess.

"What do we do, Pekoe-sama?" her gunner asked. "Can we really take these tanks head-on?"

Pekoe thought for a moment. "Ruhuna-san, drive us up and out of the trench. All surviving Matildas, stick together. You're going to act as a shield."

The three Matildas huddled together, coming to a stop and firing off a volley of shells that did little more than scratch the Pravda tanks' paint. All three were quickly taken out by the two vehicles headed their way, but that did not matter. As the Churchill came up and out of the trench, it tucked itself in neatly behind the three wrecks and began to fire away, its hull protected from enemy fire.

A shot from Alina's IS-2 grazed the side of the turret. The noise echoed through the turret, making some of the crew members clap their hands to their ears. But Pekoe remained calm. She continued to drink her tea as a shell from Nina's T-34/85 bounced harmlessly off the Churchill's frontal armor. Then, as the ringing from the impact faded into silence, she uttered a single word: "Now."

Ruhuna revved the engine and turned the tank, bringing it out from behind the Matildas. The two Pravda tanks began to move, getting their guns around to face the oncoming infantry tank. But it was too late for them. Pekoe's gunner fired a shell into Nina's T-34, knocking it out. Pravda had lost its overall commander.

All that remained of Pravda's ten tanks was the IS-2, plus a couple other tanks that the Crusaders had not managed to dispatch. One of these was the flag tank, a T-34/76. It was fleeing from the slaughter as fast as its tracks could carry it, weaving from side to side in a bid to dodge any shells that St. Gloriana might fire at it.

Orange Pekoe opened the commander's hatch of her Churchill just as the IS-2 was knocked out at point-blank range by a Crusader, reducing Pravda's numbers to one. She could see the Pravda flag tank on the run, a tank that could not realistically hope to win but could only delay its inevitable defeat. Victory tasted sweet—much like the tea in her cup, Pekoe mused. But they hadn't won just yet. They still had to catch and kill the last remaining enemy.

Dropping back down into the turret, Pekoe grabbed the radio and spoke into the handset with a triumphant smile. "Darjeeling-sama once told me that she wanted to try an English fox hunt. Show her one."

The Crusaders, by now thoroughly covered in mud from the intense melee, set off in hot pursuit of the lone T-34, disappearing in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes as they raced after it. St. Gloriana had all but won its first match with Orange Pekoe at the helm; all that remained was to deal the finishing blow.

"Darjeeling's cloaked dagger," as some had called her, had made her official debut. With St. Gloriana's victory, the tournament had started off with a bang. The Shimada style was serving them well, and if they played their cards right, it would continue to do so. Under Orange Pekoe's leadership, the champion of ages past was being reborn.


	9. Chapter 9

From her perch atop the Ooarai Sensha-dō field watchtower, Taiga Ou stared through the binoculars she had brought along as the team's nine tanks scurried about below. They were practicing formations, advancing, stopping, firing, changing formations, and advancing again, like little ants hurrying to and fro. The team had gotten considerably better at formation fighting since they had started a year earlier, but it was still definitely not their forte.

It seemed they were in good hands, even with Miho's hospitalization depriving them of their beloved commander. Azusa Sawa was not the most confident of leaders, to be sure, but in many ways she was the logical next step after Miho. She was sharp, much sharper than she gave herself credit for. And considering what Rabbit Team had been able to accomplish before, they were a shining example of Ooarai's meteoric rise.

Almost as soon as Miho had tried to electrocute herself, Taiga and the entire Ooarai Press Club had come under intense fire, facing rumors that they had driven Miho to attempt suicide with their scathing front-page editorial about Miho's ability to lead a team a few weeks before. Facing rapidly mounting pressure as a member of the Sensha-dō team and a close friend of Miho's, Hana Isuzu had launched an inquiry into the conduct of the club, though it was unlikely to go anywhere with more pressing issues on the Student Council's agenda.

There had also been the embarrassment of being dragged before the Student Council—supposedly a meeting, really more of a Morals Committee ambush—to answer for her actions. It had opened with one of those helmet-haired clones rattling off in a dull voice the charge of "unprofessionalism and conduct unbecoming of a member of the press."

They had then proceeded to grill her ruthlessly for what seemed an eternity. Hana had kept silent nearly the entire time while the Public Morals Committee took turns questioning her, only speaking to rein in some of the more aggressive lines of questioning. They had hung Taiga out to dry. It was a kangaroo court if ever there was one.

They had ultimately badgered her into resigning as the editor for Ooarai's news agency, leaving her stranded without warning. When she packed her belongings and left her desk in the news office indefinitely, everyone had looked at her stonefaced, without sympathy. She knew she had brought this on herself, but she sorely wished they had not made her exit a walk of silent humiliation. They had all been her friends, and they had kicked her ass to the door with solemn stares.

Now Taiga was leaning against the railing of the watchtower, trying to imagine what it would be like to coordinate Sensha-dō practice from up here. She was aware of famed instructor Ami Chouno's brief contract with the Ooarai team the previous year, a move that many regarded as one of Anzu Kadotani's greatest. There were some big shoes for Hana Isuzu to fill despite her predecessor's small size.

The distant crackling of the guns firing off a salvo at some target or other reached Taiga's ears. This was part of the team's warmup routine—they would practice formations, practice shooting, and then take a short break to rest and refuel before engaging in a mock battle. It was a routine they had developed to make their practice more effective, something a school like Ooarai would need if they were to keep their edge in combat on the basis of skill alone.

The metal stairs to the top of the watchtower rang with the footfalls of someone ascending them. Taiga turned to look at who was there, and found herself face to face with a brown-haired woman whom she did not recognize.

"Uh…I was just leaving," she stammered. "I'll get out of your way!"

"There's no need," the woman said, smiling gently. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something."

"Me?" Taiga was confused. The last thing anyone had wanted to do was talk to her, so it seemed. Perhaps it was for the best, since she didn't feel like catching more flak by trying to defend herself. "How'd you find me?"

"I was told you'd be here. I'm Yukari's mother."

Taiga scrambled to remember who Yukari was. She knew all the faces on the Sensha-dō team, but she had never put much time into learning their names.

_Yukari…Yukari…wait…is she referring to the Student Council Vice President?_

"Akiyama-san?" Taiga ventured.

"Yes." Yoshiko Akiyama smiled. "Yukari wanted me to just get your opinion—a reporting job, if you will."

Taiga chuckled softly, trying to hide her nerves and a hidden flash of anger at the mention of her former profession. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"The team. In particular Miho-san. But let's start more generally."

"More generally? How so?"

"As in, what's your assessment of them? You've seen a lot. How do you feel they're doing?"

Taiga's eyes narrowed a little, bracing for a loaded question.

"Don't worry," Yoshiko said soothingly, reading her expression flawlessly. "I'm asking as a third party. Take a break from journalistic practices and speak your mind."

Taiga looked around, searching for some cue as to what she should do. On one hand, she was being invited to share her thoughts, always a welcome thing. But on the other hand, it could easily be a trap. After all, she was talking to the mother of the Student Council vice president, and whatever she said could be used against her. Or perhaps it wasn't supposed to get an honest reply but rather force her to retract her statements about Miho.

Besides, this was the first time she had even laid eyes on Yoshiko Akiyama, and she was already being asked to open up. The whole thing was very suspicious, especially after the grilling she had received the other day.

Taiga took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she exhaled. She could feel the tension in her muscles beginning to release. It did wonders for deciding what to do.

"All right," she said. "Here's my two cents. I still maintain that Miho-san is not fit to lead the team, and most certainly not in her present condition. But I think they're otherwise looking good for the tournament…I think. I'm not really sure. I'm not one of them."

Yoshiko Akiyama took a moment to process what Taiga had just said. It was obvious that something was on her mind, but Taiga wondered if it would be rude to ask what it was.

"Suppose for a moment—just suppose—that you were one of them?"

"Seriously?" Taiga was a bit taken aback. "You want me to _join_ them?"

"Don't knock it 'til you try it. It's done wonders for those girls and I'm sure you'll get something or other out of it. It would also be a great way to regain the trust of Miho-san's friends."

"I'll consider it," Taiga said, maneuvering towards the stairs to get out of what had suddenly become a very uncomfortable situation. "And if you don't mind, I just realized I have a meeting in five minutes. Sorry to cut short such a lovely chat!"

All of this was a lie. She did not plan on so much as thinking about what she had heard, there was no meeting, and in her mind, it was not a chat but a guilt trip. That the Student Council would go to such lengths as employing the mother of the Vice President as their agent baffled her. But it did not surprise her, as those girls were all on the Sensha-dō team and would do whatever it took to get their way. It was how they were wired.

She sighed as she reached the bottom of the tower, then trotted off as fast as she could, pretending to be in a hurry so that Yoshiko Akiyama wouldn't suspect anything, if she was even watching. It didn't really matter, though. Mothers could get a read on anyone. Taiga was probably as transparent as anyone.

Once out of sight, Taiga slowed to a walk. She shook her head, muttering to herself, then continued on her way, not really sure where she was going and not really caring. Just when the school was reeling, the Student Council had taken it upon themselves to try and push things along when it could only cause problems for her. It might just be best, she thought, to leave the mess alone until it blew over.

But then again, perhaps they weren't entirely full of it? Perhaps she would go and watch their start in the tournament to see how they were doing. That, she reasoned, might give her some idea of what exactly was going on. She would make her decision that way.

* * *

The sound of the Panzer IV's white flag popping up elicited a sigh from the four girls inside. They were beginning to really feel Miho's absence. Saori had relinquished her position as the radio operator in order to fill in as the commander, but unfortunately she had nowhere near the skill level that they were all accustomed to. Today they had blundered right into an ambush by Rabbit Team and had sat there in the open for a few seconds too long.

"They've grown so strong," Saori gushed, referring to the six girls in the Lee that had just knocked Anglerfish Team out. "It's like they're on another level!"

"They're also operating with a full crew and they haven't changed positions since they started," Hana gently reminded her. "We're just getting adjusted."

Yukari straightened up in her seat. "Anything on how Nishizumi-dono's been doing? Information's been pretty scarce lately."

"The last thing I heard was that she'd been moved to the psychiatric ward," Hana said. "Three days in there before they release her. Which isn't soon enough."

"Yeah," Saori said. "Who are we up against in the first round anyway?"

"Jatkosota," Mako droned from the driver's seat. "Hell on wheels once you shoot their tracks off."

A sigh issued from Saori. "They're tough. You've all seen them, you know what they're like."

"Yeah," Yukari said. "They've got an ever-evolving mix of German and Russian tanks at their disposal. Not exactly the pickiest people."

"I understand their budget runs a bit tight," Hana said. "Who's in command of their team?"

The three girls in the turret looked at each other. All of them had forgotten exactly who had gone up onstage at the opening ceremony to draw the bracket number for Jatkosota. Whoever it was must not have stood out much at all.

Mako turned around in her seat to face them. "Short, light blond hair, pigtails. That ring a bell?"

Saori tried to remember. "One of the girls in the BT-42 during the university match?"

"I think so," Mako said. "She'll have learned from the best, no offense to Miho."

"Also—" Saori leaned down to get a clearer view of the perpetually sleepy girl. "How'd you spot her?"

Mako shrugged. "Guess I was awake for the important stuff."

"Isn't that a bit mean, Mako-san? Calling the rest of us out like that?"

"What? I didn't say anything."

"Well, it was implied!" Saori was a bit flustered.

"Learn to laugh a little, Saori-san." Mako closed her eyes and returned to relaxing as best she could in the driver's seat of a tank. "Especially right now."

* * *

Miho crumpled up her latest attempt at a marker drawing of a Panzer IV and tossed it into the trash can halfway across her room in the psychiatric ward. The bandage on her hand was making it exceedingly difficult to draw accurately. Burns were such a pain sometimes.

They had allowed her nothing more than a set of markers and some paper towels in her room with which to amuse herself while she languished on the ward, awaiting the day when she could return to Ooarai. She was being closely monitored to ensure that she didn't try to kill herself again, even though she had no particular desire to do so. Not that she blamed them for being cautious, but trying to draw on paper towels with nearly-dead markers was more likely to strip her of her sanity than it was to help her regain it.

She wondered how her team was doing. With her absence, the unofficial line of succession had left Azusa as the interim commander. The young commander of Rabbit Team would most likely be succeeding her for real in a year or so anyway. It was about time she started gathering experience.

Yukari, in her last visit, had mentioned something about the tournament first round coming up very soon. There had been some grief over the fact that Miho would be unable to show up for the first round of the tournament, but there wasn't much that could be done. The doctors were probably not going to let her within a hundred feet of a tank anytime soon, even though her team needed her.

Maho's words from the vision in a dream echoed over and over in her mind: _Show the world how a Nishizumi lives._ The waiting she would have to endure made her feel the urgency, but at the same time it threatened to sap the eagerness from her spirit. It had initially gnawed at her nearly as much as Maho's untimely death had, but now it had become a simmering impatience in the back of her mind.

She had already spent long hours drawing and meditating, and the odds were good that she would spend many more doing exactly the same thing. None of these people really understood that the ward did little more than create another set of problems to distract her from the ones she already had. If they thought it would help her recover from a suicidal state, they were wrong. The only way she was going to get better was if she made an effort herself, and at this rate the understaffed hospital was making that insanely difficult.

For now, though, all she could do was wait it out, demonstrate that she wasn't chomping at the bit to end her life, and hopefully be out in a couple days. It couldn't possibly be soon enough, but it had to be better than never getting out at all.

* * *

Orange Pekoe sat in her office chair thumbing boredly through the stacks upon stacks of papers that ate up the majority of her day. It was a constant stream of managing accounts, handling letters from the Alumnae Council, and dealing with petitions from members of the Sensha-dō team. On top of that, she had the responsibility of running the team's public relations, which required her to be more communicative than she had ever been in her life while still holding her cards close to the vest. It was a delicate and stressful balance, and she was glad to have Rosehip working as her secretary, sifting through her mail to filter out the essentials and set aside all the fan mail for reading at a later date.

The downside of winning a match was that it only led to her mailbox becoming more stuffed. Fortunately Rosehip was good at trimming down the stack with her customary high speed, but the communiqués from the Alumnae Council were always increasing.

Time and time again they had complained about her acquisition of five Centurions. For many, especially members of the team, this made no sense. Why, they inquired, would the alumnae push back so hard against an upgrade that would help them in a match?

It had all begun at the start of the academic year, when Pekoe had organized an auction to get rid of surplus things and turn a profit for the team. Hundreds of people had shown up, hoping for a chance to buy something from the well-respected school. The turnout had been much higher than anticipated.

The real purpose of the auction, however, was to do with the fact that the Alumnae Council had just rejected the proposal to upgrade the team with Centurions as too costly in spite of St. Gloriana's extensive wealth. So Orange Pekoe had taken matters into her own hands and arranged a surprise for the auction: the Cromwell that Earl Grey had once commanded all those years ago when Darjeeling was still an underclassman.

As expected, when the tarp was pulled off the renowned commander's old tank, a hush fell over the crowd. It took a moment to register that this was the steed of one of St. Gloriana's highest-performing commanders ever, now being sold off. When the bidding started, it was fiercely competitive, and when the buyer was declared, ironically a relative of Earl Grey herself, the sum was many times the amount that the tank had initially cost according to St. Gloriana's records.

The Alumnae Council had been rather annoyed that a piece of St. Gloriana heritage had been sold off before they had time to respond. But what had drawn the bulk of their ire was when Pekoe spent the money from the Cromwell sale on five Centurions, leaving just a small amount the St. Gloriana treasury and bypassing their explicit veto on purchasing upgrades. It wasn't the tanks themselves that annoyed them; it was the fact that Orange Pekoe, commander of the Sensha-dō team and someone they were supposed to be able to trust, had gone behind their backs and seized control over something that they had always governed.

Immediately before the first round match, Pekoe's mailbox had been flooded with angry memos ordering her not to deploy the Centurions against Pravda. To everyone's surprise, she had indeed chosen not to use them. But this was not because the Alumnae Council had convinced her of anything; rather, she did not want her team to become dependent on them to do all the heavy lifting. Every tank on the team had a role to play, and besides, the less future opponents knew about St. Gloriana's true capabilities with their upgraded arsenal, the better their odds were of catching the enemy off guard.

It had been a bit rough for the team when they realized that they were just deploying their standard infantry tanks and Crusaders. Against the intimidating heavy tanks of Pravda, they felt like ants. But Orange Pekoe had kept them as calm as she could, reminding them that resourcefulness would pay off more than relying on superweapons.

Pravda had been a tough opponent indeed. Nina, who had learned everything she knew from Katyusha, was pulling no punches, and Pekoe's forces had had several close calls, with indecisive firefights and smokescreens being a common sight throughout the match. Yet in the end Orange Pekoe had been able to lure her opponent into a kill zone where her force was rapidly whittled down, and then the Crusaders under Rosehip had chased down the flag tank in a simple match of speed.

Nina's reaction to losing had been rather good-natured. "We've still got another year left," she said to Pekoe when they met on the ground afterwards. "I'll be sure to see you then."

Pekoe had smiled at this, a wolfish smile she had perfected with lots of practice in the mirror as part of building her image as a commander. "Of course."

That evening on the _Ark Royal_ had been rather busy. They had done a full debrief of the match using officially released footage and their own memory, assessing what could have gone differently so that they would know what mistakes to avoid. Then the entire team had enjoyed a celebratory dinner prepared by the St. Gloriana culinary department at the Tea Garden mansion, complete with copious amounts of tea as usual. A brief interview with the St. Gloriana press corps had taken up fifteen minutes of Pekoe's evening, and then she had gone straight to bed while the team enjoyed themselves. Her position as the commander was not one where she could afford to get complacent.

The day after a match was always busy, as was any other day, but today there was something new in her mailbox that caught her eye: an envelope addressed to her from an address in England. Opening it, she found that it was a long and rambling letter, written in immaculate Japanese with the occasional half-butchered English phrase in there too, scraggly attempts at cursive Latin script among flawless kanji.

_Dear Orange Pekoe,_

_I was quite impressed with your performance in this week's Sensha-dō match against Pravda Girls' High School. It appears that you have learned well in such a short span as the commander of St. Gloriana._

_Here in the British Isles, there is very little talk of what goes on over in Japan, except for the occasional article about Ooarai's state of affairs. But I watched your match and I approve._

_The St. Gloriana Alumnae Council came to me with an alarming note—_

Orange Pekoe lifted her eyes from the page, shaking her head. The Alumnae Council had troubled her enough; surely they weren't using a shill from abroad?

She braced herself and kept reading.

_The St. Gloriana Alumnae Council came to me with an alarming note yesterday, regarding the recent purchase of five Centurions without their permission. I wish to be quite clear that it is not the purchase of the tanks that I find alarming. It is their attempt to stop a perfectly fine upgrade that irks me._

_Good on you for selling the old Crommie, by the way. She's been effectively retired ever since I commanded her. My aunt never understood me, but I think she can't help but appreciate what I used to do now that my tank from high school is part of her collection._

_But let us not dwell on this for very long, for it is a waste of energy to wallow in complaints and the negative. I am glad that you seem to have found your own Sensha-dō, even this early on, even after a rough start in Tankathlon last year._

_I met your mentor three years ago when she was a first-year at St. Gloriana, and I recognized that she would be capable of great things. I did my utmost to teach her, to "show her the ropes," as they say, and I am pleased that she has extended you the same favor._

_Though there may be some who oppose you, never get angry at them. Be instead unstoppable, inexorable. Elegance is not necessarily sitting around with a cup of tea, powdering one's nose. Sometimes it takes the form of being calm and efficient, doing whatever must be done._

_I wish you well, Orange Pekoe-san. Make us proud. The world is watching even if they don't know it yet. The future of St. Gloriana's Sensha-dō team is in your hands now, yours to empower. May you prosper._

_My highest regards,_

_Earl Grey_

Pekoe stopped reading and took a deep breath. Darjeeling's old senpai, Earl Grey, had actually taken the time to write to her, not out of being manipulated by the Alumnae Council but out of her own willingness to write. Despite the distance, she somehow felt closer to the heart of St. Gloriana, knowing that she had support from at least one element of St. Gloriana's old guard.

She quietly folded up the letter and slid it into the pocket on the left side of her Sensha-dō jacket, electing to keep it close. Most of the pockets on the uniforms were fake, but she had gotten this one modified so that it was real. It served her well for when she needed to carry documents with her, even if it didn't look as smooth. She had luxuries like that when she was the commander.

In the second round St. Gloriana would be facing Anzio. If their luck held here—

Pekoe stopped herself there with a smile. It was foolhardy to rely on luck, especially as the commander. The only way she was going to get good luck was to make her own.

* * *

"All right," Azusa said, gesturing to the whiteboard in the Student Council office, though the movement looked more like windmilling her arm to find her balance, as she was completely new to doing this. "Since we'll be facing Jatkosota High School in the first match, we need to pin down exactly what we know about them. Akiyama-senpai, your research?"

Yukari stood up and pointed to the board, this time gesturing directly to the tank list she had put on it a few minutes prior. "They have quite a diverse arsenal. Besides the BT-42, they also have a pair of BT-5s, two T-34s—one with the 76-millimeter gun and one with the 85—a KV-1 of probable Pravda origin, a Sturmgeschütz III, or a Sturmi as they like to call it, a Panzer IV Ausführung J, a BT-7, a T-26, a T-28, a Vickers 6-ton, and a Ha-Go."

"There's only ten tanks allowed per team for this match, right?" Saori interjected. "That's definitely more than ten."

"That's true," Yukari said. "Unfortunately I wasn't able to get any information on which ones they'll be deploying, as their apparent love of solitude apparently meant there were no briefings to crash. They're certainly a bit unconventional, in more ways than just their fighting style.

"As far as what we can expect…their commander is relatively inexperienced as a leader, but she appears to be quite proficient. Her combat style, based on footage of a practice match between Jatkosota and Chi-Ha-Tan last week, seems to favor dividing opponents with rapid charges, concentrating fire on single vehicles, and wolfpack hunting techniques, using lots of camouflage."

Azusa bit her lip. "So…this is shaping up to be quite hard."

"More or less." Yukari, seemingly dissatisfied with the gloom-and-doom tone of her voice in those three words, scrambled to rectify that. "Ah…we might not have Nishizumi-dono leading us this time around, but it's Sensha-dō, and anything can happen. Sawa-san, I have faith in you. We all do." She turned an expectant smile towards the rest of the room.

There were nods of assent from the various other girls assembled there—Hana, Saori, Caesar, Nekonya, Noriko, Tsuchiya, Gomoyo, and the young freshman commanders of Shark and Turtle Teams.

Azusa's face reddened a little, caught off guard by the impromptu pep talk. "Thank you."

After a moment's silence, Hana cleared her throat. "Now for our strategy. Azusa-san, do you have a specific plan in mind?" She flipped the whiteboard over on its rotating axis, revealing a huge laminated map of the battlefield.

Once Azusa had collected herself, she glanced at Hana, then grabbed a dry-erase marker and set about drawing on the plastic surface. "Our starting point is here, at the base of this cliff…" She marked a location in the bottom left corner of the map with an X, then reached up and made a similar X in the opposite corner. "…and this is where Jatkosota is starting, in this valley right here. This might be the steepest terrain we've ever faced, so Tsuchiya-san, we'll be keeping Leopon Team away from having to do too much extreme climbing."

There was silence as the commanders processed the information they had just been given.

"All right," Azusa went on. She drew an arrow from the X that marked Ooarai's starting point that wrapped around the side of the hill and went up a much gentler slope. "We'll be taking the high ground early and making ourselves hard to reach. At the same time, we will have two scouts go out and search for the enemy—Duck Team, Hippo Team, you'll be going out there. Whatever you do, don't get spotted. If you're seen, draw them away from us unless I tell you to. Everyone got that?"

"Understood," Noriko said. "We'll do our best to hide. Better than our best, even!"

"I think she gets the idea," Hana chuckled. "Anyway, Azusa, what next?"

Azusa drew two diverging arrows on the map. "Once we locate the enemy, we'll split into two companies, one headed by me and the other by Hippo Team. My company, A Company, will lure Jatkosota under B Company's guns."

"Question." Yukari put up a hand.

"What is it, Akiyama-senpai?"

"Who's our flag tank?" The look on Yukari's face indicated that she already knew the answer to this question, but she was asking for the sake of those who didn't know.

"Oh, my apologies. I forgot." Azusa fidgeted with the cap of the marker. "Anteater Team will be our flag tank for this match."

Nekonya looked up in surprise. "Us?"

"Yes."

"But we…"

"You're the flag tank, Nekota-san," Hana said. "Consider it an honor. A dangerous one, but an honor."

"Uh—yes, I'll gladly take up that responsibility, nyaa." Nekonya settled back down into her seat, now looking a bit more agitated than normal.

Azusa cleared her throat. "A-anyone have questions?" There were no hands raised. "All right, then, I guess you're dismissed?" She turned to Hana, who nodded.

As the girls filed out of the Student Council office, Azusa felt a tap on her shoulder. To her surprise it was one of the freshmen, the girl commanding Turtle Team this year. "Oh, Akari-san. What can I help you with?"

Akari, for that was the short, chestnut-haired girl's name, blinked a bit at having been acknowledged. "You were pretty inexperienced when you started out, right?"

"I was, yes." It felt odd for Azusa to be the senior party.

"Well, uh…I was wondering if you had any tips for someone just getting into it."

Azusa thought back to the time when the six girls of Rabbit Team, under fire from St. Gloriana, had leapt out of the tank and fled for the hills while it was unceremoniously knocked out. The embarrassment of it had served as a giant wakeup call, and since then they had always vowed never to flee. "Whatever you do, don't panic. That's the best advice I can give you. It may be hard to keep calm, much harder than you expect. But the moment you allow yourself to be blinded by fear, you're done."

Akari's eyes were wide. "Huh?"

"Sorry about that," Azusa said, grinning sheepishly. "A lot to take in, I know. But you got the gist of it, right?"

"I think so?"

"Good. And good luck out there. This is your first time doing truly competitive Sensha-dō, but I think you'll do fine."

"But we've—" Akari began to protest.

Azusa smiled gently. "Trust me, you're doing better than I was a year ago. You've just got to have faith in yourself and your crew."

"Thank you. I'll keep what you said in mind." There was a look of relief on Akari's face. "See you tomorrow, Sawa-senpai."

"See you tomorrow."

As the two parted ways for the day, Azusa was struck with the sudden realization that she really wasn't ready for the match. It wasn't anything to do with a lack of planning; it was the other kind of preparation, the more internal kind that planning would ease but not take care of.

She could only hope that her team had the mental strength she wasn't so sure she had. They had gotten through immense difficulties before. Compared to that, surely something this small would be a piece of cake.

* * *

A ship bearing a strong resemblance to a scaled-up freighter crawled quietly through the waters off the Kamchatka Peninsula, and in a dark, smelly garage on board, a girl sat inside a lone BT-42, the only vehicle of its type among the nearly two dozen tanks in there. A long cord extended from a space heater on the floor of the hull and out through the driver's hatch, which was cracked open to make way for it.

As Aki had found on more than one occasion, the BT-42 was not designed to double as a barracks. It was a quality inherent to a tank, that the armor was made of metal and metal was a terrible insulator. Besides, machines like the BT-42 were not built with comfort in mind; they were designed to fight. Yet tonight, the night before Jatkosota High School faced the Ooarai Girls' Academy in the first round of the 64th National Sensha-dō Tournament, she was sitting awake in the commander's seat, surprised by just how nervous she was.

She had never really thought of herself as a commander. Serving as the loader and gunner didn't exactly afford her the greatest view of the battlefield. Still, she had guessed her way into what she thought was an understanding of how Mika had fought, and Touko before her.

In a way, she almost felt sorry for Ooarai. They had always looked up to Miho Nishizumi as someone uniting them, and now they were scrambling to figure out what to do. It was painfully clear from a look at their personnel that they didn't have anyone who could measure up to their legendary leader, and with a weak lineup, they would have almost nothing going for them—a problem not helped much by the fact that Jatkosota's crews outclassed them in every respect.

The battlefield was to be perfect for Jatkosota too. Mountainous terrain, plenty of cover—exactly what had made them so formidable against titans like Kuromorimine. The poor Ooarai girls were going to have, quite literally, an uphill battle to fight. But it would be unsporting to go easy on them; the greater the challenge, the more value a match held.

Aki smiled to herself, wrapping her blanket tighter as the memories of hearing Mika's kantele inside the turret came back. It had always been calming and energizing at the same time. And perhaps that was what she needed in her newfound role.

* * *

_Shells whistled through the air all around Azusa, leaving bright trails behind them. She couldn't hear a thing. She couldn't see a thing. All she knew was that she was under intense fire from all sides and in spite of all her planning she had no clue what to do._

_"What's going on?" she cried into the radio. "Where did this come from?"_

_There was no reply, just a small shell that pinged off the M3 Lee's armor and whined away into the distance._

_"Anyone?" Azusa was getting frantic now. "This is bad, this is really bad!"_

_Suddenly there was a massive explosion from close behind her. She whirled her head around, feeling the wake of a passing bullet disturb her hair, just in time to see the turret of Anglerfish Team's Panzer IV lift off the hull, rocket up into the air, and crash heavily to the ground, leaving a column of thick black smoke to belch from the empty hole where it had once been._

_"Oh my god!" Azusa shouted. "We've got to get out of here!"_

_Yet still the fire kept coming, more intense this time. A stream of fire struck Duck Team squarely in the side, and the Type 89 went up in flames._

_Never mind them, Azusa thought. We have to go. We have to go or we die!_

_"Karina-chan!" She was screaming at the top of her lungs now, in a state of absolute panic. "Come on!" There was no response, and the Lee remained stationary, with no indication that her crew could hear her, or that they were even there._

_It was then that Azusa noticed something that chilled her to the bone. The Ooarai tanks were all dead silent, unmoving, taking all the fire that came in without so much as resisting. Two of them had been completely destroyed, their crews beyond saving. And here she was, supposed to lead them, helpless to do anything but watch her friends' tanks burn._

_"Come on, come on!" she begged, desperate to get away from the murderous hail. "Please!"_

_Then suddenly she caught sight of a huge shell flying towards her tank. Her eyes widened in horror as she scrambled to get out of the hatch, but something pinned her in place. The round sliced through the Lee's side armor like a hot knife through butter. She screamed in abject terror as a fireball rose up around her feet, out the hatch, and engulfed her, a baptism of fire that seared the skin from her bones._

Azusa awoke with a start. The covers of her bed were a mess from her tossing and turning. Her laptop had gone to sleep long ago, and it sat silently on the nightstand beside her. She reached over to it, tapping the trackpad and logging in, and found that the documentary had finished while she was out, a collage of recommended videos taking its place on the screen.

She rubbed her eyes. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to watch documentaries like this late at night in a bid to find some sort of inspiration. Sometimes she needed to preserve a bit of her sanity, especially before her first match in command of an entire Sensha-dō team.

The clock read 2:30. In a few hours' time she would have to get up. But until then she would have to try and get some sleep, this time hoping she didn't fall victim to another nightmare scenario.

* * *

Taiga was up late. Way too late. But still she was online, wearing her eyes out every night with the glare of the screen shining through her glasses.

There was a little sound like a bell through her headphones, an indicator she knew all too well as the notification of a new email message. It was a bit annoying to get these late at night, but she clicked on the popup as it appeared in the upper right corner of her screen as if she was on autopilot.

The sender was unfamiliar, but without even reading the subject heading, Taiga saw the first part of the message and stopped, fully awake. She groped around for her notepad, only to find that she had put it away a while ago. A document on her computer would have to suffice.

_SENSHA-DŌ LEGEND REPORTED MISSING,_ the message said in bold. _SHIHO NISHIZUMI'S WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN._

Taiga finally glanced at the subject header, which said simply:

_Thought you might like this ;)_

With that, Taiga plunged straight into the content of the email, a massive wall of text, taking notes. She had no idea why she was even doing this—force of habit, perhaps—but something about it had grabbed her attention.

She yawned. Thanks to her journalistically-trained brain, she was in for a long night.

* * *

The morning was cloudy and the grass still wet with dew as the Ooarai Girls' Academy Sensha-dō team milled about at the match grounds, waiting anxiously for their first match of the tournament to start. Azusa and Erwin had gone to greet Aki, leaving the rest of them to their own devices. They were all strangely quiet, unused to the feeling of being without Miho as the pressure of a match weighed down on them.

"Azusa looked really tired this morning," Karina remarked, breaking the silence that hung over the normally chipper Rabbit Team. "I've never seen her looking this worn-out before."

"I hope she holds up in the match," Aya said, downcast to match the overcast sky. "I'm worried that adrenaline alone might not be enough for her."

"Well, let's hope it is. We need her. Like, we actually need her. Otherwise we're kind of screwed out there."

The silence returned. It was a little bit disconcerting to remember that so much rested on their friend's shoulders. All they could do was perform to the best of their ability.

"Hey…" A low, soft voice greeted them, and they turned to see Nekonya standing there. "Everything all set to go?"

"Except our command structure," Ayumi said. "So yeah."

"Got it, thanks." Nekonya turned around and slowly drifted back towards Anteater Team, or at least it seemed from her rather aimless appearance walking away from them.

Karina stared at Nekonya for a moment. "Those girls in the Chi-Nu are pretty strong, aren't they? I can't be the only one who remembers them tossing shells around like tennis balls last year."

"Yeah." Yuuki chuckled. "I wonder what would happen if we tried to do that."

"Death," Aya deadpanned. "Just death."

Ayumi furrowed her brow. "That's not funny, Aya."

"Come on, I was just trying to lighten the mood! Sheesh!"

"Anyway." Karina seemed eager to get off that subject, as Yuuki's train of thought had interrupted hers. "If Anteater Team's so strong, why can't we be? Why can't all of us be? There's nothing saying we have to rely on Commander Nishizumi for ev…everything…"

Her shoulders slumped a bit as soon as she said that. No amount of optimism was going to remove the shadow over the team, nor was it going to wave away the fact that Miho had always been their one main bastion of strength.

At last the rumble of a motorcycle engine began to approach. Saki, who until now had been tracing the lines of the rabbit logo on their M3 with her finger, began walking in the direction of the sound, the same look of deceptive disinterest on her face as always, masking whatever was going on inside her head.

The bike rumbled into view, an old BMW with a sidecar, with Erwin at the handlebars and a rather pale-faced Azusa in the sidecar. The girls fell silent, not that they were being particularly boisterous to begin with.

Azusa climbed out of the side car, taking in a deep breath as she did so. The color slowly returned to her face. "Next time, let's just use a jeep," she said to Erwin. "That thing gives me a headache."

She straightened up and turned to face her team, who were all staring expectantly at her—even Saki, who seemed lost in thought, but at least she was facing in the right direction. "We're starting," she called out in as commanding of a tone as she could muster, though her voice cracked a couple times. "We'll be sticking together as much as we can to counter any hit-and-run attacks they do. Board your tanks and get ready to move out!"

The girls climbed into the vehicles, taking their positions. Azusa lowered herself slowly into the M3 Lee's cupola, the muscles of her arms shaking violently.

She had heard many times before that being nervous in a stressful situation was good, as it kept the mind sharp and enhanced performance. Nerves could be channeled into doing her best. However, in this moment Azusa was beyond nervous. She was truly terrified, such that she had to fight back every urge to leap out of the tank and run. She had once vowed that she would never flee from a challenge again, but never once had she expected to end up with the responsibility of a team on her shoulders against a school legendary for their skill, if not necessarily their success.

Azusa sat there in heart-pounding silence, watching the sky. Any minute now the firework would go up and herald the start of the battle, but it seemed to be taking way too long. The agony of limbo was real.

So tormented was she by the wait that she almost missed the whistle of the rocket and the pop. She scrambled to collect her thoughts, then reached up with a trembling hand and pointed in a general forward direction. "Time to go!" she shouted. _"Panzer vor!"_


End file.
